Requiem for Mombasa
by Rookie425
Summary: October 20th 2552. New Mombasa. The Covenant prophet of Regret has attempted a full scale assault on humanity's home world. The Judgment, a UNSC frigate returning from a training facility, must now drop its fresh batch of ODSTs feet first into the fight.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any working titles associated with Bungie, nor do I own Halo or any of its characters, they are, and always will rightfully be the property of Bungie and Microsoft. All main characters in this story are my own, created, inspired and developed by myself. I do not plan to sell or profit from this title. It is purely for audience's reading pleasure.

* * *

**October 20th, 2552**

**UNSC Frigate **_**Judgment**_

**Earth Orbit 1500 Hours **

Captain Akira Takashi of the UNSC frigate Judgment stood on the bridge, gazing out the view port at the remains a Naval defense ship in Earth's orbit. The ship had been torn in half by cruiser's main cannon. Debris from two defense platforms drifted, incinerating as they touched Earth's atmosphere. A single Covenant ship lingered over the city of New Mombasa. "We're too late," said the shaky voice of Akira's operations officer. She looked at the young lieutenant with a blank expression. It was time for her to act.

"No," she said in a relaxed, confidence inspiring manner, "we've actually made it in before closing time, people."

"Care to elaborate, captain?" her executive officer, Williams, said with a smile in his face. Akira knew that he trusted her judgment well enough to rely on it in this situation.

"The Navy took out most of the invading fleet. There's only one ship left, most of the OD platforms are still operational, and they look as if they've already started preparations for launching a counter attack from space." She sat down next to the ops lieutenant. "It's okay to trust your own eyes, but don't let them be the only source of your judgment, Lieutenant Stone."

He nodded. "Yes ma'am."

Akira gave the man a pat on the shoulder as a sign of reassurance. "Everyone, on your stations. Eyes fixed to your monitors. We've got this down, people. We've practically got them on the run. Don't let the fact that an alien cruiser made it into Earth's atmosphere intimidate you. That was a last resort on their part. They know we won't fire anything heavy down on them while they're in one of our cities." She stood back in the center of the bridge. The bridge crew knew that a system diagnostic was underway. "Weapons."

"Go."

"Communications."

"Go."

"Operations."

"Operations; go."

"Telemetry"

"Go."

"Outstanding. Master arm. Keep the MAC gun cool for now. I want all ground units on station for deployment. I want all Pelicans loaded up with every single Marine they can fit in. Get ODSTs locked, loaded and in their pods now. I better not see one, tank, Warthog, Marine or Helljumper on this ship after the next fifteen minutes. Am I clear?" She was replied with silence and a few head nods of the crew. "Good because even I wasn't clear I don't care about your opinion anyway." There were a few laughs among the bridge crew, which came as a slight shock to Akira. She wasn't expecting to lighten the mood, just that she would spark confidence and get the crew moving. She just rolled with it.

"Williams," she turned to face the stern XO, "The shock troops. We're dropping them into the hottest side of hell. I need you to brief them on what to expect. If some of them want to back out from an orbital drop and take a pelican down--"

"Ma'am," he said, cutting her off as he looked down the corridor, "these are Helljumpers we're dealing with. I don't think you'll have to worry about any of them backing out."

* * *

Private Ethan Wilks stood alone on the isle's shore, just gazing at the blue waters on the horizon. He closed his eyes as he breathed in the pure clean air and fell back on the warm sands. It had been almost a year since he had been in such a paradise. The sound of a musical symphony surrounded him. He didn't know where it was coming from, nor did he care. All that mattered was that he was able to enjoy the peaceful moment. All of the sudden, he felt a sudden surge, which caused him to jerk forward, pulling him out of his dream.

"Hey, Wilksie!" came a feminine voice, "You awake?" Ethan strained his eyes through the opaque visor that shielded his face. Even before he saw her, he knew the voice belonged to PFC Kate Vansen, a member of his newly assigned team. Nothing much about them was known to Ethan, seeing as this was his first day serving with them. He was recently selected from an off-world training site just in time for the Judgment to get it's recall order to Earth.

"I am awake," he replied, depolarizing his visor, "No need to shout."

She smirked. "Right...Well when you're done lounging in your pod feel free to join the rest of us. You know? Briefing?"

He set his head back into the seat, making a loud clunk with his helmet. "Alright."

Ethan hauled himself out of the Human Entry Vehicle and followed Kate. She was just under his height of 5'8" and had dark red hair. He couldn't tell much about her build with the coverage of the standard vacuum grade armor issued to the ODSTs.

She stopped and turned around. "Ahem."

"What?"

"Your eyes are wandering."

"How the hell would you know?"

She smiled. "O-o-o-h don't think that helmet can keep me from reading your mind."

"Don't flatter yourself. We just met." Ethan forced himself to keep a straight face, even though he knew he had just made an ass of himself. Kate was able to hold her smile as well.

"Wilks! Vansen!" The two snapped at attention as they heard the call from their team leader. "Stop screwing around and fall in! We got ten minutes, not even."

"Sir!"

"Sir!"

The rest of the team stood around the holographic display of New Mombasa. "You two 'get lost' or something?" said Ryan Shepard, their marksman.

Kate laughed. "Oh yeah. I was all over that."

"Hey, knowing you, I wouldn't hold it far past ya."

Ryan had already geared himself up with a suppressed S2 AM rifle and all the ammo that he could carry. Though he hadn't been around long enough to judge many of them, Ethan could tell that this Marine was that cliched, smart-mouthed, kill-them-all type of squad mate. He shrugged off the nothing conversation and adjusted his focus to the briefing table.

"Stow it, people," said Sergeant Tanner, their team leader. "I don't want to waste anymore time than we have to." He panned the holographic display over to an overhead view that centered the Orbital Elevator into the middle of the table. The sole, inanimate Covenant carrier was just stationed there above the city. Blue lines traced down from the representation of the Judgment in orbit, representing pod trajectories. "Here's what we got. The moment the Covenant touched down on Mombasa, they started digging in, setting up anti air emplacements, spreading patrols throughout the downtown area. Civilians have been evac'd for the most part, but check your fire anyway. People do live here, and I'm sure some aren't willing to leave just yet."

"Their funeral, not ours," one ODST said.

"True, but that's not the kind of outcome we're looking for, now is it?" The nameless Marine put his head down for a moment. "If you'll let me finish. Our objective," he pointed to three locations that highlighted red once he touched the pad, "is to take down Covenant AA emplacements that they have set up around the outskirts of the city. We're assigned to take out these three, surrounding Kiyabako plaza. After that, all teams will regroup here on East One-Ten highway and continue across the bridge into the downtown area."

Ethan cocked his head. "Why don't we just drop into the downtown area and take the carrier now?"

Tanner took his hands off of the table and stood up straight. "Like I said; AA set-ups are restricting us from aerial incursions to the downtown sector. That means no air strikes, no orbital drops until they're knocked down."

"Does anti-air not mean anything to you, rookie?" said Wierbowski, the team's demo man.

"Enough. Wilks has been assigned to our team for a reason. Anyone has an issue with that, you will take it up with me. There's still a fight happening on the surface. So, until it's over, he's with us. Understood?" There were a few slight nods among the team. "Good. Double check your gear, find your seats."

Ethan turned around towards the part of the launch platform containing the weapons. He nudged his footlocker open with his boot and took out his customized MA5C. It had a single-shot 8 gauge chamber underslung beneath the primary barrel. Though it was a shotgun, the barrel didn't stick out farther than that of the rifle, seeing as it was meant more for firing slugs rather than buck shot. In addition to that, the assault rifle itself didn't have the standard tactical display fitted inside the bulky hump on the top. Instead, both had been replaced with a utility rail that held a reflex scope. It was the perfect weapon for him. His skill in close quarters situations earned him the weapon. As he smacked a magazine into place he heard a pair of armored footsteps against the steel grate approaching him.

"Hey, um..." Kate's voice said from behind. Ethan kept his focus on his gear but gave her the respect of his attention by glancing over his shoulder. "Don't listen to what some of the others might say. They're just--"

He smiled. "It's alright. I've heard it all before."

She nodded. "Right. Well I'll see you planetside."

"See you there."

He watched her walk away to her drop pod. Ethan had practically no time to get familiar with his team. The only ones he was able to really talk to were Kate and Ryan. He at least knew that they didn't mean anything by what they said. Truth was he didn't even know what to expect of any of them in combat. It was only hours ago that he and a handful of other recruits were transferred onto the Judgment. Before that he was still in a training station. Timing was on his side, that is depending on how it was seen from his perspective. He wanted to get into the fight, but he still felt that it was rather early for him. Right out of training and into the meat grinder. He didn't exactly know what to think about his odds. Memories of training were all that flashed through his mind when he tried to think about it. He racked the action back on his weapon and as soon as he released it, the satisfying click pulled his mind back into game.

Williams stepped out onto the launch platform. The black-haired, 6'4" officer towered in his own little spot behind the ready line in the launch bay, still wearing full dress uniform from the ceremony on Cairo station. The drop pod platform was a sea of jet black armor and blue tint helmets, save for the occasional paint schemes on some soldiers' plating. Typical gung-ho dogs of war, he thought. An evil? Maybe. But if they were, then they were a necessary evil. He cleared his throat, hoping that the sound was loud enough to capture the attention of the massed soldiers. It worked apparently. He had the room's entire attention.

"We're short on time, so I'll try to be quick about this." Williams shuffled to his left a bit, keeping his hands behind his back. "As you all know, the Athens and Malta defense stations were destroyed when the Covenant first arrived here, providing a single Covenant ship with a straight shot for Earth. It's stationed itself above the heart of New Mombasa." The sentence was followed with murmured curses among the troops. "Focus, guys. I know things just look like they're getting worse for us but that didn't stop us before. We're going to try to launch squads as close to the AA batteries as possible without risking you falling in range of their fire." Williams felt his stomach sink for a moment. He only hoped that what he was about to say didn't put them under the impression that he had doubts.

"Which is why I'm to inform you that you have the choice to whether to take the trip down by drop pod or by Pelican, where you will be acting as support as we push deeper into the Covenant occupied districts. It's your call, people. Good luck. Feet first."

While the other ODSTs went to their pods, Wilks just stood there, staring for a moment as the Executive Officer left the launch platform. Despite the bad news that Williams had delivered, there was something about his voice that Ethan found inspirational. Any man who could capture the attention of a talkative group by use of a throat sound deserved some credit. "Whatever," he said to himself. Just as he was turning to enter his pod, he saw Ryan still looking off at the blast door exiting the room. "Ryan." Wilks didn't get an answer. "Hey...hey!" He snapped his fingers. The sniper finally looked over. "What's up? You've got a look about you."

Ryan looked away at the door and then back at Wilks. "That guy never says feet first." Such things were usually seen as an omen to Marines, especially lower ranks. Ethan didn't necessarily believe that sort of thing but he got a kick out of it.

"Well fuck..."


	2. Chapter 2

There was a light atmosphere of conversation in the bridge as Officer Williams stepped back in. There were murmurs coming from just about every station, discussing status reports, operation theories, and even the odds of the UNSC. Captain Akira was the only one who took notice of his return. "Did they get the message?"

"Yes, captain."

"Good."

Akira stepped over to the navigation display on the table centered in the room. There was a small antique looking bottle with a shot-sized glass resting on the edge of the display. She raised the glass of steaming sake to her lips and took a sip. "I thought you considered it unprofessional to be drinking in the line of duty."

"Depending on how things go, this might be my last one." She tipped her glass to him, offering some of the ancient recipe.

"No thanks."

"Come on, everyone else here said the same. I'd rather not drink alone."

Williams smiled. "I'll drink when this is over."

"Fair enough." She set the glass down on the table. "Ops, what's our status?"

"All units are go for incursion. We have a green light for launch. Objective updates will be streaming on the fly once they're on the ground."

"Deploy all ground assets in launch bays one and two. Make sure ODSTs are strapped into their pods because they're going down next."

"Helljumpers are giving us green light. First ground force is clear, pods ready for deployment."

"Navigation, where are we at?"

"Right were we should be, ma'am."

"Start the sequence."

* * *

The claustrophobic interior of the HEV was slightly comfortable in a strange way, or at least that's how Ethan felt. It wasn't as crowded as as he expected it to be based on what he heard from other troopers. In fact, he actually felt enough room to keep his legs from falling asleep. The only thing that made him feel crammed in was the fact that his weapon had to be stored so close, which was right next to his seat. The MA5C didn't have many reported incidents of a misfire but he wasn't willing to trust the design with his life. That feeling doubled with the orbital drop scenario.

Both screens on his pod's hatch lit up. One displayed Sergeant Tanner in his pod, the other remained blank with the UNSC emblem in place. "One minute 'til drop. Do another systems check."

"Again?"

"Unless you want to fall apart upon entry burn? Yes."

Wilks had already done more system checks in his pod in one drop than he would have in a week's worth in simulation training. At this point, his idea of playing it safe was just looking around the interior at the all of the green LEDs.

"Everyone good?"

"Green here. Everything checks out."

"Mean and green."

Ryan scoffed over the comm at the catchphrase. "Wow. Who said that? I'm going to hurt you."

A few laughs ensued that were soon drowned out by motor sounds and the dull clunk of the bay doors releasing. "Alright, people, minds on it. Here we go." Wilks felt his pod shake as it was lowered into position for launch. Light from the sun deflected off of Earth's atmosphere, giving it a glowing look in surrounding dark space. Rays of light shined off of his visor. He depolarized it to get the full effect from the sight. "My God, that's beautiful." Ethan felt uneasy from this change of scenery. It wasn't the thought of a drop that was bothering him as much as it was the anticipation. It felt as if he were stuck there with gravity pulling him down by his feet and that the only thing that would relieve the sensation was giving in to it, letting his pod fall towards the surface.

Captain Takashi's face suddenly appeared on the other screen. "Good luck out there, people. Deployment in ten, nine..."

Ethan polarized his visor again. "Game time," he said, fitting himself firmly back into his seat, gripping the controls.

"Five, four, three, two, one. Mark!"

Flashes of light streaked downward from the ship as the pods fired their thrusters. The drop started off with almost horrifyingly fast descent. It seemed to slow down shortly after. Ethan felt himself raise from seat in his HEV and shortly after fell back in place. It was now that he felt that odd comfort return.

Ryan's voice came in through the comm. "How you holdin' up, rook?"

"This. Is. Awesome." There was a silence.

"Where did we dig up this guy?"

"Yeah, what's up with that? How come you didn't puke your guts out yet?"

"Why? You guys place bets on if I would or something?"

"Ha! Maybe..."

"Thanks. I feel so lov--" He was cut off by a jolt that rippled through his pod. The sound of metal clashing against metal made his ears ring for a moment. "The fuck?!"

"Oh shit..." Bits of debris washed past the cluster of pods, tearing one apart instantly and knocking a few others off course.

"The hell was that?"

"Looks like debris from one of the Orbital Defense Platforms."

"Keep it steady! Burn thrusters only if you need to go evasive." Ethan saw Tanner look out of his own pod on his personnel display. "Private, you look like you got nicked pretty good. You doing okay?"

"Yeah." He looked around his pod at the displays. Everything showed green so far. "Yeah. I should be fine. Nothing's lit up red, I got no warnings. I think I'm good."

"Alright. Slow and careful. Follow us in."

Wilks closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. His heart was racing. They finally passed through the cloud cover. "Alright, trajectory burn in five, four, three--" Wilks suddenly felt his pod pull back hard before he could burn the thrusters. All the other pods passed him by. "Wilks! What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't know! What am I doing?!"

"Your drag chute's deployed! Cut it loose!"

A warning sign lit up on his display. Sure enough it was notifying a chute malfunction. "Ah shit!" He tried the manual release, but the chute didn't give away. He was going down way too slow to even hope to be on track with the rest. "It won't go!"

"Do something then! You're going down way too cold! You're gonna stall!"

Kate's voice cut in. "Wilks! Hit the thruster! At least see if you can pick up speed again!"

He did as she said, hoping that his last resort wasn't busted as well. Luckily the thruster was fine and it did allow him to pick up a little more speed. On top of that, it had melted the drag chute off of his pod. "I think I'm okay. I didn't get pulled off too far. At least I'm hitting land instead of the water surrounding it. I can't slow down though."

"That's okay. Your pod can take the hit." Tanner said. "We're touching down in seconds. Try to link up with us once you're on the ground." The transmission started to break into static. "Good luck."

The comm cut out. Ethan then knew that he was on his own. His attitude had already changed from enthusiasm to anxiety. Now he wanted to be on the ground, and ground was getting closer fast. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for the impact.


	3. Chapter 3

Wilks kept his eyes shut as the HEV violently descended, letting out a scream like that of a Banshee stuck in a stall. For once, he began to feel sick from the air turbulence. He was finally feeling nausea after a sucker punch from a piece of debris and a drag that yanked him out of subsonic free fall. In a way, he was proud of himself for having the stomach to hold back from vomiting. The ride down felt safe at first because of what he had experienced in simulations but this was different. Now he was truly aware of his vulnerability. As he opened his eyes, Ethan could only catch the silhouette of a skyscraper outside his view port just moments before the HEV made contact.

His shocked yell was drowned out by the sounds of glass, metal and concrete, all smashing against his pod. He could almost hear the impact echo through the building's frame like a pin drop under water. The pod finally came to a halt. Ethan felt himself at ease now that he was on the ground, at least for the most part. He reached for the hatch release, but not before the pod's resting place gave away, causing it to fall another two floors down. Ethan cursed at the pain he felt from the second drop. "Enough already!" He found himself being pulled forward and from looking at the cracked remains of the window he established that the pod was between landings in a stairwell. "Christ almighty."

He popped the hatch open and his shoulder restraints gave away, letting him fall from the ceiling face first into the floor. "Ugh..." He moved around a bit to recalibrate his system and stretch his limbs. The pod wasn't exactly one of the things he thought of when the word "comfort" came to his mind anymore. Being in one towards the end of the drop was like being a canned sardine only with a window. His VISR systems lit up, showing that everything was functioning.

"Alright." He stood up and looked around at the interior. "I'm on the ground, kinda. I'm in a building on the...fifth floor, and as of right now I'm lost." The assessment monologue, as his friend Stosh from boot camp called it, was his own way of resetting his mind on task. It helped in a way. It made the situation feel like a math problem only with multiple solutions. The best way around a problem is to solve it. "And for all I know, I'm on the opposite side of the city as my team." He climbed up to his pod and retrieved his rifle before heading down the stairs. There was a chance that he wasn't the only one who had gone off course. Finding additional help somewhere on the ground was now his priority. "Well, provided that Covenant didn't see me land, and as long as I avoid drawing attention to myself, I'll be okay."

There was a crackling groan coming from the floor above when suddenly he saw his HEV come tumbling down off the landing, all the way to the ground floor. He looked over the handrail at the cloud of dust at the bottom. The crash was followed by sounds of a grunt squad scurrying to investigate along with Elites growling squad commands. Ethan sighed, hanging his head. "Goddammit..."

* * *

A Jackal pair crept their way over to the heavy mass of metal that had crashed in the middle of the room as it rested, motionless like an iron brick. Whatever it was, it had made a decent sized hole in the side of the building that the two were in. One cackled, ordering his subordinate to take a closer look. As the Kig-Yar got closer, it heard a series of dull taps that sounded as if they were answered with a beep. Curious, the scout inched closer, hoping to get a look through the window on the front of the object. Just then, it made a hiss, spitting steam out from either ends of a hatch, startling the Jackal. Suddenly, the side that he was facing flew off, smashing him right in the face and out the hole in the room.

The other watched in surprised at his comrade falling to his death along with the hatch. Private First Class Michael Krone took this window of opportunity that he had made for himself to get out of the pod without notice. The Jackal turned and saw him just as he rolled out of the seat onto the floor. It hissed at him in a tone that he had heard before on other operations. From what he guessed it was some kind of Kig-Yar slang for humans. To him it sounded like "fiend" only backwards.

Before it had the chance to raise his carbine, Krone lunged forward at it from his low stance and gave the weapon a rising kick right out of the alien's hands. The gun flew upward, smacking the Jackal in the face just before the Marine grabbed hold of his neck. Krone held one forearm firmly behind its neck, pressing hard into the throat with his other. The scout gagged and gasped, looking up at the dark blue visor before him. It was the last thing he saw before Krone jolted his armored gauntlet forward. A loud, satisfying crack came from the Jackal's neck and the limp body fell to the ground.

Two down. The Helljumper looked around, noting no more threats. No shots fired. He walked back to his pod, retrieving his BR55 and M6 Automag. He looked outside at the skyscraper parallel to the one he was in. The damage to it only told him that another HEV had landed inside, same as he did. And now I have a sense of direction. I'd say that's a pretty good start.

Wilks tried the door to the fourth floor offices as he heard the ambient sounds of Covenant clattering about further down the stairway. For some reason the door was still locked, which didn't make sense seeing as building should have had an evacuation plan. "I don't have time for this shit." Ethan opened the chamber of his shotgun attachment and loaded an 8 gauge buck shot cartridge in. He needed to evade that patrol now, not look for another exit. Stepping back from the door, he took aim at the handle and blew a fist sized hole through the old fashioned design. He then made entry into the room, plowing the remains of the door off one hinge with his shoulder.

The hallway he had entered had openings to a number of office rooms, all of which provided enough space for evasion. Surprisingly the random pick for the room he chose to hide in wasn't locked this time. No signs of forced entry on the door meant less interest the patrol would take in searching. He moved over to an office cubical and sat down in front of the desk. "Hard to believe this would be someone's first reaction to seeing a Covenant carrier parked overhead." He briefly looked back up over the cubical wall at the door. "Shit, my first reaction would've been to get the hell out of here, even if it meant using the window." Just then he heard the guttural roar of an Elite echo from the stairway.

"Search everywhere! It's not in the vessel then it's still here. Find where the coward hides!"

"Got it!"

"Movin' boss!" a pair of Grunts replied in an almost mouse-like tone.

That's right, you bastards. Come on in. Slowly, Ethan shifted his feet into a deep stance, turning his body sideways in accordance with his rifle. Using only the front of his feet to circle underneath the cover of office doodads, he practically tip-toed his way over to the second door leading to the hallway. He leaned closer to the door, ear first. Despite his helmet, he could still hear the clumsy clomp clomp of a grunt's hobbling footsteps. Trying to match the sound to a Grunt in motion almost made Wilks laugh. That alone made them less intimidating and almost comedic.

Just then the door handle start to move from the other side. "Oh shit." Ethan backed away and gunned up, aiming high for the killzone. At this range, the 8 gauge cartridge would destroy an Elite regardless of shielding. The door flew open, but instead of his sights being filled with the elaborately bulk figure of a Sangheili warrior, he saw nothing but air. That was until he brought his aim down to see a petrified Grunt staring him right in the visor.

The wide-eyed alien didn't move, scared stiff. "Your move, shorty." At that, the methane breathing bastard jumped, threw its hands up in the air and screamed. Wilks quickly cut him off by driving his boot square in the face, knocking its mask off. The second Grunt poked its head around from the other side of the hallway upon seeing his friend roll backwards out of the room. Wilks took aim and spattered its blood and brain tissue with a double tap from his primary. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to make less noise. He had gone loud a second time now and they knew exactly where he was. The fight was on now.

Stepping over the suffocating grunt, Private Wilks shot out of the door way and squared his body in the direction of the stairway. The Grunt kept scrambling for his mask with a disoriented panic. Ethan kicked it over onto its front and knelt down on its throat while keeping his aim on the doorway. Wilks now began to hear footsteps. They were loud, heavy. He could feel the ground shake with each step. His barrel started to slowly creep away from the stairwell scan over the walls around him, keeping his weight on the Grunt. He's already in here.

* * *

Private Krone had just finished his last Jackal patrol when he heard rifle fire from outside the window. He was all but certain the shots came from the other building, seeing as they weren't too far apart from each other. He quickly removed his Ka-Bar from the Jackal's eye and released its arm, bringing his BR55 to bear again. He turned it on its side for a moment. Safety's off; set to auto. "Hoorah."

Moving to the crippled wall of the building, he caught a better view of the offices in the sister structure. His VISR automatically picked up a friendly signature one floor down but only for an instant as he ran out of the room. It was obviously the Helljumper who made the massive cavity in the tower with his pod. Good. He's still alive. Ideas started to flash through his head as to how he could get across. There wasn't much distance. If he were able to gain enough momentum with a running start he could be able to clear it. Hook firing a thousand-pound line across and crossing over could work too but that might draw attention from hostiles in both buildings. Krone shook his head. "There's gotta be another way." Just then he saw an Elite ultra begin to circle around from the other side of the office section. It was going to flank the ODST. "Friendly shock troop on my twelve, do you copy? Turn around, he's coming through the offices." He tried switching through all available comm channels. "Goddammit, turn around!" Still nothing. The Marine was on his own.


	4. Chapter 4

Wilks felt the Grunt beneath his knee stop struggling as it passed out from the Marine's weight closing his airways. Ethan eased up and shifted out of his crouch. Further force wasn't necessary; that threat was neutralized, the second was still in the room. As soon as he stood up a primal roar came from the doorway of the stairwell. He whipped his head around to see a Sangheili donned in the traditional blue armor. Within a second, he responded with blind fire as he fell back into the offices for cover. Armor may have its protective qualities, but even a vacuum grade combat suit couldn't promise survival in a head to head fight with a shielded opponent.

As he entered the room, Ethan slammed the door shut with his leg, hauling a file cabinet down in front of it to barricade the entrance. He backed away from the door, putting his sights on it once again as he waited for the Elite to make its next move. Sounds of deep breaths faded in and out of his muted helmet as he tried to collect himself. The first contact with Covenant wasn't much of a challenge when it was just grunts. Now their squad leader was on to him. A glimpse of the bastard was enough to last him a lifetime already.

Wilks nervously shuffled his feet, trying to anticipate a possible plan of action. His chain of thought was broken by the familiar sound of armored footsteps. This time they were closer, but they also cut off briefly as if the hostile broke to a halt for fear of being noticed. The Marine's heart nearly stopped at the realization. He looked to his left, where the offices connected adjacent to the next part of the room. There was a faint blue glow coming from around the corner that he could barely make out in the sunlight shining in through the windows. "Son of bitch." He swung left and fired an 8 gauge slug from his rifle without skipping a beat.

The armor piercing projectile burst a chunk off the wall as it tore through the paneling, hitting the Elite that laid in wait for him. Its shields flared like a stove burner coming to life, but instead of the immediate bursting effect like that of a popped balloon, they calmly dissipated and resettled, meaning they weren't yet depleted. The Ultra had made it clear that Wilks had pissed it off as he furiously rounded the corner with his sword in hand. He tried to correct this by spitting primary fire at him again. The Elite's shields finally went down but just in time for the Marine's rifle chamber to let out that distinctive click. "Shit." Before he could switch to his sidearm, the Elite recovered from the one round that penetrated his armor and began to charge.

Wilks did the first thing that came to his mind. Naturally, his combat instinctive reaction would be to engage in hand to hand. That wasn't exactly an option when his opponent was virtually almost twice his size and strength, wielding a weapon that could cut through steel with ease. Instead, he blocked its path, kicking a nearby computer chair in its direction. The back rest on the chair hit the Elite in what Wilks could only have guessed to be the crotch, judging from its placement and the alien's expression upon impact. Now even more pissed off, the Elite hurled the chair out of his way, approaching Ethan as his hands fumbled to get a magazine out from his pouch, back-peddling away from the threat.

At that moment, the window behind the Elite was shattered all around from the floor to the ceiling as a dark object crashed through. The sound caught the attention of both the Ultra and Ethan. Wilks needed no more to convince him as he caught a glimpse of the BR55 that was attached to the newcomer's back. In a single, clean maneuver, this ODST rolled into a crouched position, firmly halting his momentum while he unslung his rifle. Two rounds later, the red-armored split-jaw crashed out on the floor, staining the carpet with a dark purple.

Stunned, the young private looked up from the corpse and at the sight of his savior with wide eyes. About a hundred responses came to mind but the words never left his mouth. It wouldn't have mattered anyway since the guy made it clear he wasn't intent on stopping to take a breath just yet. Before he tried to speak, the Helljumper rushed over to Ethan, pulling him away from the barricaded door by his chest plate at the tell-tale, high frequency whine of plasma grenade. "Get down!" he shouted. With a deafening blast and flash of blue-white plasma, the alien grenade reduced the door to vapor, Elite number two following the explosion. The Marine swung around, shouldered his battle rifle and cut the threat down with a second of full automatic fire.

Private Michael Krone looked over his shoulder at Wilks, smoke still streaming out of the barrel of his BR55. "You alright?"

"Yeah!" Wilks replied, shoving himself off the floor.

"How many more?"

"What?"

"How many more are there?!"

"Fuck! I don't know! Platoon strength maybe!"

Krone muttered a curse, lowering his weapon. His head whipped around, frantically looking for an option. It soon stopped; the blank gaze of his visor fixated on the shattered window. Seeing as the stairs were off the table, the exterior of the building was their only option. "Come on." He turned around to cover the doorway as they reached the window. "Knot up."

"Are you serious?"

"It's all we got. Knot up. I'll cover you."

Ethan picked up a chair from one of the desks and used it to smash out the remains of the broken window. He then started to pull out some of the thousand-pound line used for harnesses from his pack. Krone was tossing rounds through the nearest doorway at some Covenant that were inching their way up the stairs. "Ready?"

"Gimme a sec."

"You've got three. Then I'm pushing you out that window."

"Thanks."

Another double-tap was fired behind Wilks. "I try."

Wilks clipped the other end of his line around the metal window frame. "Set." Without another word, Krone slung his rifle and readied his own rappel line. Wilks glanced over at Krone, who gave him the word by nodding. The two leaped out of the room, still facing the building as they descended from the outside. They stopped one floor down and their HUDs were already outlining hostiles. "Keep going!" They kicked off of the windows and rappelled down another floor, which showed the same results of heavy hostile activity.

Ethan kept his hand on the grip of his holstered sidearm in case he had to draw it. "When do we stop!?"

"We don't! Not until we're in the clear!"

Just then, the two Marines came to a halt in front of a window. Wilks tried to kick off and rappel again. "Don't bother. We ran out of line. We're taking this floor." The Private looked into the room to be staring eye to eye with a Jackal sharpshooter and a Grunt squad. "Fuck!" he said through his teeth while whipping his rifle to bear from behind his back. Wilks followed by pulling out his M6C. Their bullets tore through their armor, spitting up blood and bits of bone, joined with the broken glass, debris and shreds of paper that once sat idle in the untouched room.

Wilks didn't move an inch from his posture on the rappel cord as he kept his depleted pistol fixated on the room. It came as a shock to him that he was still alive. It felt like he had just punched Death in the face for staring at him. Krone didn't waste another second, kicking off the side of the building, gaining the momentum needed to breach the cracked window. As soon as he entered, he swapped out magazines from his rifle and looked back at Ethan. "Come on. Smash in. We gotta move."

Shaken from the massacre they had just committed, Ethan nodded. "Yeah...yeah, one sec." He secured his weapon and followed his partner's breach maneuver. As soon as he went to enter the room, he felt the support from his harness cease in mid swing toward the window as if it had just suddenly snapped. Desperately, he reached out for window. He had never felt so grateful for his suit as broken glass crunched against the protective armor on his arms. Krone rushed back to him, grabbing hold of Ethan's forearm just as he was about to fall out. "Hold on! I gotcha!" With his other hand, Krone reached back for Ethan's shoulder plating, hauling him up over the damaged window frame. Wilks collapsed onto the floor as soon as he was completely in the room.

Krone kept his eyes on their surroundings just to be safe. "You okay?"

Wilks brought himself back up on his feet. "Yeah. I'm okay. You?"

"I'm good." He lowered his rifle and turned around. "We're clear for now. What the hell happened?"

The rappel chord was still clipped to Ethan's utility belt. He followed the line to the window, where it dangled outside in the wind. He wrapped his line around his hand as he pulled it up. Finally he reached the end it, which was nothing but a smoking stub of burned fabric. "Oh, those little pricks."

Krone laughed quietly under his helmet and shook his head. "Oh that's just too good."

"Yeah. I should start scrap booking this shit." He unclipped his line and looked at Krone. "Thanks for saving my ass back there," he said as he offered his hand. "Private Ethan Wilks."

The Marine shook his hand, depolarizing his visor as he did. "Private First Class Michael Krone." Ethan simply nodded. "Relax, pulling rank is the last thing on my mind."

He chuckled. "I didn't think otherwise."

Ethan felt a slight chill go through his spine as he shook Michael's hand. From what he could see of the Helljumper's face through the limited space in the helmet, Krone had practically no complexion at all. Facially, he was almost nondescript in a way other than being a Caucasian male with brown hair and eyes. He couldn't have been older than Ethan. What really struck him though was the man's ability to keep a straight face after what they had just been through. He himself had struggled just to laugh seconds ago. It's a good thing this guy's on my side, he thought.

"We got about a minute. Go ahead and recover yourself." Krone kept himself moving around the ravaged environment that was the room, inspecting the bodies. "Is this your first assignment?"

The question took Wilks by surprise in a way. "First combat drop? Yes. Assignment...define assignment." Krone stood up from the body of a dead Grunt after scavenging a pair of plasma grenades from it. He turned his head to Ethan revealing a smile on his face. First time seeing the man smile and Wilks knew it was to make him feel like an idiot. "Yeah, this is my first assignment."

"Don't feel bad. You survived your drop and you managed to survive a good while after landing. That says something at least."

"Yeah I guess. Why did you ask?"

Krone gestured to the broken window. "You kinda froze up before committing to taking the scenic route down and again before you decided to enter this room." Ethan didn't know what to say at this point. Mike looked over at the bodies. "Feeling guilty?"

"No, it's not that. Hell no. I actually have no problem killing Covenant if they're hell-bent on killing me. Just never really...cheated Death I guess."

"Ah. Your first mad minute," he muttered. "Doesn't feel as good as it sounds does it?"

"Better than being dead."

"True. C'mon. Let's get moving before more of 'em show up." Krone's face vanished again underneath the black wash of his polarized visor once again. Wilks did the same as he shouldered his weapon and followed his new found ally out of the room with a slight feeling of optimism from his improved chances of survival.


	5. Chapter 5

**Kiyabako Plaza**

**Immediately After First Drop**

Ryan's pod slammed into the pavement like the shell out of the_ Judgment's _MAC gun, scattering hot asphalt all around the small crater. Light from the afternoon sun flooded over his armor as he popped the hatch. He fervently snatched his rifle from its slot. His body language just said how much he was itching for a fight. The way he jolted out of his seat and onto the streets implied how every cell in him was calling for blood. Ryan completed the next step of deployment; scanning his immediate surroundings for threats. Gunfire clattered in the distance like ambient club music to his ears. Everything showed clean so far, but he wasn't convinced just yet. _"Marines! Fall in over here!" _Tanner's voice boomed over the radio as he emerged onto the streets from his landing point. _"Hop to it, Shepard! Yes, I can see you from here!"_

"Moving!" Ryan clomped his way over to Tanner and the rest of the team, his gear rattling against this armor as he lugged the combined weight of five spare magazines and his best friend in his S2 AM sniper rifle was his "Excalibur," as he liked to call it. He followed the very basic rule that the corps has to teach; "respect your weapon and it will keep you alive." Surprisingly, his rifle has never failed him. With all the trigger time he put into it and all the abuse it underwent with him in stress fire situations, his maintenance kept the weapon in check. Ryan knew that Sergeant Tanner was aware of his understanding of corpsman mentality and level of responsibility. He just knew. It was the only way Tanner was able to put up with him so well. "Reporting for duty, sarge."

Shepard's words almost hit Tanner's deaf ears as he was occupied with playing quarterback with the rest of his team. "Dito, scout ahead, scan these buildings from the streets. Hawkins, stay here and cover him from a distance. Don't let him get out of your sight. Don't engage unless fired upon!" he finished as Dito started to move. "Shepard. You're actually here. And you're alive."

"Surprised?" he remarked with a smile.

"Disappointed."

"That hurts."

"We're missing a few people. Did you see any of them make land-down?"

Ryan shook his head. "Wilks really screwed the pooch on his drop, I'd be surprised if he's still alive. I remember seeing Bowski's pod splitting off to avoid being hit, so there's a good chance he's at least a city block away."

"Vansen?"

He shrugged. "I don't even know. I didn't see her go in at all."

"Mm...Hawkins is our only demo specialist aside from Wierbowski."

"Which means we're screwed, right? No offense, Hawks."

"Yeah, well you're an asshole," Hawkins rebutted.

"Can it," the sergeant cut in, "We can still complete our objective. We just need to work out a better strategy that'll let us make the most of what we've got."

Ryan's hesitation and body language, the way he shifted his weight, spoke well enough for the doubt he was feeling. "What about the others?"

"What about 'em? If they survived the drop, they'll know what to do."

"We should at least try to re-org and bring or odds...you know, a little more away from nil?"

Tanner consulted his internal system's clock. 15:04. Just maybe with a wiggle-worm of time would be enough. He pointed East of their location, toward a sector that intel had marked as neutral area. "Two mile limit. You've got 'til fifteen-forty. After that, we're going to take that point. I'll expect you back here before we move out."

Ryan nodded with excitement. "Won't let you down." He always loved running operations without a team as baggage. Lack of a team meant less responsibility. Less responsibility, less he had to worry about. Even though this was just a minor assignment with a very limited time window, freedom in a field of operation brought a smile to his face. "Hold on." Of course, there's always the possibility of a killjoy. Ryan froze at the sound of the sergeant's gruff tone. Come on, he said to himself, what could I have possibly done wrong this time? "Where's your rangefinder?"

Dammit. Ryan was hoping Tanner wouldn't notice the piece of gear missing from his helmet helmet. The rangefinder attachment was standard issue for most qualified Marine snipers, placed above the visor to be used like a pair of night vision goggles. While it had its purposes, the ODST marksman just didn't feel like admitting how passionately he hated wearing the dead weight on his helmet. "I...forgot it."

Tanner depolarized his visor, revealing the dissatisfied expression on his face. "The moment you disrespect a part of your arsenal--"

"'It disrespects you?'"

"--you disrespect yourself," Tanner finished.

Ryan slouched his shoulders. "Same song, new verse."

"Sarge!" Hawkins called, "I can't reach Dito, he's not responding."

"Hawkins, did you lose Dito?"

"He dropped out of visual contact to check out the inside of that diner," Hawkins pointed to the ground level of a building on the corner of the block across the street from their position. "He didn't respond to my radio check either."

"Dito," Tanner tried through his comm, "Corporal do you copy? Over." No response. "Something's up. Ryan, Hawks; watch my back."

Step by step, Tanner gingerly went to evaluate Ditomasso's last location. Ryan popped the passenger door of the car that Hawkins was using for cover, kneeling down to use the joint as a rifle rest. "I don't trust this, Ryan. Not one bit."

"Relax, Hawks," he replied, keeping his eyes downrange around Tanner, "I've got him covered. You just keep watch on everything else."

Tanner peered through the window of the blackened diner. He wasn't about ready to make the mistake of entering the building what with one squad member already vanishing from it. There was nothing to imply any life in there. Even as he switched on his low-light setting, he still couldn't see any movement or IFF signatures. _"Dito. Respond...Corporal?"_ He stepped away from the window and started to walk back to their position. "Form up. We're going in the--"

Before the order had a chance of getting off the ground, Tanner was taken off guard by Corporal Ditomasso's body as it smashed back first through the diner window. "Holy shit!" Ryan cursed. Jackal snipers suddenly emerged from the edges of rooftops surrounding the street. "Ambush! Hawks! Light 'em up!" Plasma flashed all around their cover as the two struggled to get so much as one clear shot at the enemy. "Count three!"

"I count five!" Hawkin's swapped out his magazine. "I'll pin 'em down for you. Wait for my word." Quick-fired bursts peppered the rooftops where the Kig-Yar had hunkered down, forcing some of them back into cover. "Now! Right side! Count two!" The S2 AMB echoed as Ryan cut the Covenant shooters down off the rooftop. "You got 'em!"

"Relocating!"

"Hooah!"

Moving was key for an ODST marksman, especially when your rival shooter was a natural-born spotter like the Kig-Yar. It was common knowledge for Marine snipers that, in a firefight, snipers had to keep moving in order to get a clear shot every time they fire. Otherwise, the enemy catches on and focuses their fire on the shooter's cover, pinning them down or getting a lucky shot on them. Ryan hadn't faced off against a contingent of Jackals like this before. There were just too damn many, and on top of that they were close enough for him to look them in the eye through glowing monocle on their heads. Looks like I'm down to trial and error in this kind of a mess, he thought as he roadie-ran across the street behind another vehicle, I just hope I can leave the "error" part out.

"In position!"

"Loading!...Now!" Shepard got as far as sticking his head out before he lashed back into cover from a white-hot streak from a beam rifle that landed mere inches from his helmet. Hawkins wasn't so lucky as he fell victim to a trident of beams that seared clean through his chestplate. "Fuck!" Ryan elbowed the rear bumper he was behind as he brought his comm to life. The Kig-Yar caught on to their diversion tactic faster than he expected them to. "Man down! Hawkins is down! Sarge! You still with me?!"

There was a series of _friendly_ shots fired from down the block. _"I'm here!"_ the sergeant replied, still firing at something as the shots rang through the comm,_ "Dito's KIA too! I'm still outside the diner trying to keep these bastards from coming out for now but I've gotta reload at some point! And those snipers aren't going to make things easy!"_ Ryan picked up a shard of glass from the broken window and mirrored it above the car. Sure enough, the Jackals hadn't moved an inch. I'm gonna have to drop these pricks if the sarge is going to have any chance of falling back. He tossed the shard away and went back to his rifle. "Tanner. Stay put. I'll give you the go when to start running."

Gonna have to take them all out at the same time, Shepard said to himself as he reloaded, no going back into cover; there's just not enough time. He inhaled a long, deep breath. Two to the left, one on the right. Letting go of the breath, Ryan turned around and stood up out of cover with his rifle already shouldered on the Jackal nest. With every muscle tensed to controlling his weapon, he was able to recover after the first shot and take down his second target. The third was gone though. He looked all around the rooftops again, searching for the phantom Jackal.

"Fuck! I could've sworn he was on the right corner!" Just then, the familiar, scrawny shape of a Covenant scout-sniper poked its way out from around the corner of building at the end of the block. "Ah, crap!" Shepard fell to his side hoping to fall back into cover and avoid giving the Jackal a clean shot at him. The beam just grazed his left shoulder guard without touching his skin as he dropped to the ground, leaning out of cover with his shoulder against the pavement in a laying position. The scope zeroed in on his target, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he took aim. Time was on his side. At least, that's how he felt. He had all day just to watch his reticule dance over the Kig-Yar as he placed it perfectly over the bird-head's skull. The squeeze of the trigger, the boom of a 14.5mm sabot round. Recoil rippled through his armor. Ryan grinned with satisfaction of his perfect shot as he watched the round placement shatter the alien's skull through his scope.

Ecstatic from the rush, Ryan brought himself back on his feet and swapped magazines, doing a double-check to make sure the rooftops were clear for good before repositioning across the street for a view of the diner. Tanner was holed up around the corner, practically blind firing into the room at the enemy. incoming fire began to lighten up around him. That wasn't usually a good sign;it usually meant the Covenant had something else in mind for solving their problem. Ryan had to get him out of there fast. "I got you covered, Sarge. You're clear to move." He watched all around as Tanner inched his way past the window, keeping his head beneath the frame. "Come on, man! The fire's not getting any lighter than that. You're going to have to break for it and head back to me. I'll watch your back."

_"You mind if I criss-cross?"_

"You mind a bullet in your dick? If no, then go right ahead and serpentine it."

_"Am I green?"_

"Green."

_"Haoh!"_

Tanner bolted off the wall and ran in a straight line toward Ryan. The Covenant apparently learned the use of a door as an Elite came bursting out pursuing the sergeant. Ryan made short work of him but before the body could hit the ground, a swarm of Grunts came climbing through the shattered window. The intersection which the diner was cornered on started to fill with contingent of Grunts and Elites alike. Tanner did a baseball slide into cover and hugged the phone booth behind Shepard's cover. "Having fun yet, sarge?!"

"No! We gotta get clear of this shit!" He felt the class casing around the phone booth shatter from the concussion of Shepard's rifle.

"They've got double squad strength! We can still take 'em!"

Tanner didn't like the idea of having to hold out against a Covenant mass, outnumbered six to one. It dawned on him as soon as he saw their exit. "There! We'll hold out there!" he called out, pointing to the mini-mall outlet down the street.

"Works for me!"

"You move first! I'll cover!"

"Sir!"

"Hey!" he grabbed his shoulder. "I expect you to do the same!"

"I know the drill! Moving!"

Tanner picked off a few grunts with his 7.62mm Marksman Rifle, scattering however much of the squad as he could. The DMR that he carried was perfect for taking down hostiles hard with dead accuracy and hard stopping power. Though it wasn't the best for laying down suppressing fire with its limit to being semi-automatic. That was a job better suited for an MA5B or most other assault rifle variants. Though, however the enemy looked at it, finding was still considered a smart thing to do when squad mates start hitting the ground by the twos.

"In position!"

"Moving!"

Shepard kept to his word and his training, covering Tanner's retreat to his location. He managed to fire off two rounds but an unfriendly _click_ stopped him just as he had placed a red-armored Elite in his sights. "Oh shit!" The Sangheili was practically in a full sprint toward them at the end of the block, in mid stride with drawing his sword. "Shit!"

"Talk to me!"

"I'm jammed!" Ryan yelled, yanking the action, trying to manually get the chamber to lock shut again.

"You gotta be--!" The crack of Shepard's S2 cut him off before he could turn his attention to the Elite. He saw it hurdle backward and smash into a parked vehicle. "Nice timing!"

"You mean I got him?!"

"Just go!"

"Moving!"

Enemy fire wasn't letting up as they fell back closer to the mall and their line was actually holding for the number of grunt casualties they had to sustain. The cover between Shepard and Tanner was almost too thin for them to risk another maneuver. "Sarge, we're gonna have to sprint this from where we are!"

_"Copy that! I'll move first and give you the go."_

Tanner slung his rifle over his back and charged toward the entrance. He plotted his path so that he would pass by Shepard for just a fraction of a second to get him moving. Keeping clear of Ryan's line of fire, he bolted toward him, stopping just to give him a nudge on the shoulder. "Hooah!" The trooper pulled an about-face and sprinted, trying to keep up with Tanner. The two could feel the heat of the incoming plasma fire as it zipped past them and peppered the store in front of them. They finally entered the building, Tanner clearing his way through the glass door and Ryan breaking it off of its hinges with his body's momentum as he tripped on its frame. The sergeant hauled him onto his feet. Apparently they had found their way into a furniture department. "Come on, keep moving!"

Ryan angrily pushed his weight into a bed frame, piling it against the door. Three teammates missing, two KIAs within the same minute because someone misplaced some zeros on their drop coordinates. "Which rear echelon ONI brass motherfucker dropped us into an ambush?"

"Recon sweeps showed up clear. No one could have known."

"Bullshit! They didn't do their jobs! They weren't thorough enough! We're the ones taking the losses while they have the luxury of making small mistakes!"

He grabbed Ryan's chest plate and pulled him so that they were facing visor to visor. "Stow that shit, Private! We need to keep it together if we wan to--" a plasma bolt hit Tanner's arm, throwing him off balance.

Ryan whipped his SMG at the ready and dragged Tanner behind some displayed furniture. "I'm okay! Where'd it come from?" Shepard peered around the corner. Two blue figures were calmly advancing through the clothing department.

"Got two. Both elites. Light armor. Center isle."

"Break right. We'll both hit them at the same time."

Shepard acknowledged him and braced himself to flank the Elites. Tanner said the word with a nod. Simultaneously, they charged out and picked their targets before either of the Elites could reorganize. The persistent fire from the two Helljumpers wreaked havoc on the Elites' shields within seconds, robbing them of any chance to return fire. Smoke streamed from their weapons. "Clear!"

"Clear!"

The call was made too soon. Out from behind the isle where the two Elites were, came a third wearing white armor and armed to the teeth with a pair of swords. Combined fire was short-lived from both Marines after they had expended most of their magazines on solitary targets. Ryan threw his SMG and dove away, fumbling to get his rifle at the ready. "Coward!" spat the Elite while approaching Tanner, who was backpedaling, trying to reload. On impulse, he brought his rifle up in an attempt to block the energy sword. The Elite gave Tanner the respect of outsmarting him rather than using brute force. He could have easily cut the rifle in half along with Tanner but instead he settled for a strike at the midsection.

Tanner dropped his rifle and clutched at the smoking, cauterized wound along his abdomen. He fought to stay on his feet, grabbing for his sidearm. Another strike from the Elite, this time severing his forearm at the elbow. Tanner cried out in agony before his executioner drove the other blade into his chest. "Sergeant!" Ryan panic-fired at the Elite. The shot depleted the spec ops leader's shields and even managed to tear off the armor guarding its left shoulder. He fired again but the split-lip hypocrite retreated after the first shot, yet Ryan didn't stop after the second. He chased the Elite out with bullets just praying that one more would put it in some hurt for what he did. "God dammit! Hang in there, Sarge! You're gonna be okay!"

Ryan almost felt that his assurances rang hollow to Tanner. Hell, he knew the sergeant had no chance but it didn't stop him from applying the biofoam. He didn't know what he what he was hoping to achieve by filling his wound with the tissue-regenerative polymer. "You're gonna be okay..." He felt the life leave Tanner's hand as the grip ceased and his last breath drew long and quiet. Anger began to course through Ryan's veins. It was a fact to him that they were going to burn for coming to Earth. Fuck mission probability, he said quietly, my kill count's on now.


	6. Chapter 6

[I wasn't sure whether or not I was going to make this chapter split up from telling about the events from this area and then that of another character. But seeing the length of this one, and seeing where it ended, I figured it best to just let those events have their own chapters. Not entirely sure about this one, seems a bit lengthy just explaining a couple of technical things but I have to do it sooner or later. Might as well be now, early on. Get the boring stuff out of the way.]

**New Mombasa Financial District**

**Ten Minutes After Drop**

The ODST pair moved through the hallways, keeping their heads on a swivel. The floor seemed mostly fitted for presentations, speakers and meetings what with all the projectors, charts and lots of space. The power was out though, giving a bit of an advantage with the darkness. Ethan was taking point, pressed against the wall as he moved to the other corner when he heard an Elite. He signaled Mike to wait on that side of the corridor before doing a SWAT turn around opening to the other side. He peered around the corner. There was an Elite minor practically with his back turned to their position.

From the sound of it, the Elite was reporting in. Either that or he was just talking to himself in his alien tongue. Wilks pulled back in cover and signaled Krone again with hand signals. Count one, he's looking away. Krone went into a crouch and poked his head down the hallway in time to see the Elite turn away completely. Krone began his reply by pointing at Wilks and crossing one fist over the other. Take him out, quietly.

Ethan's blank stare spoke well enough for his thoughts on that order. "Seriously?" it said to Krone, if only he could see through the visor. Wilks may have survived his drop and lived through two close encounters with the Covenant, but he was still technically a trainee. No more than ten minutes into the war and all that the ODST had under his belt was a confirmed kill of a grunt. Not once had he ever thought to take down an 8 foot Sangheili warrior. Why would a combat experienced soldier like Krone tell Ethan to do something that he himself knew that he would probably be able to do better? Though, without questioning his judgment, the Helljumper cautiously moved in to carry out the order as he slid his hand from the rifle's grip to its stock. After all, the Elite didn't know he was there; surprise was on his side.

Wilks wound up and bashed the Elite on the back of his skull. Shocked and slightly dazed from the strike, the split-lip swung around and tried to club the Marine with his plasma rifle. Ethan dropped beneath the blind swing and rolled under its arm to get away from the alien's front. That close, being in front an Elite's center mass was a world of hurt; avoiding it was the only option for any average person with half a brain. As the minor turned around, Wilks fell back on his hand-to-hand training and brought his leg up, pivoting his grounded foot to deliver a heavy kick to the Elite's jaw. "Ah!" was all the that the alien responded with.

With a running start, Krone leaped up behind the Elite, stomping both feet onto the backs of its inverted legs, pulling its head to the side and driving his Ka-Bar into the exposed neck. He held onto the armor, following the dead weight to the floor with a thud. Mike took a breath as he knelt over the corpse, looking up at Wilks as he yanked the knife out. This was one of those times where Krone's faceless stare expressed his attitude better than any words he could think of. He wasn't mad, not even dissatisfied in any way; just lost for words. Krone kept himself quiet as it is, but he still had something to say even if he kept it to himself. He just stood there at eye level, staring at Ethan as he looked at the body. Wilks finally looked up at the Marine and noted the non-reflective expression. "Yes...I just round-housed an eight foot alien killer."

Krone nodded, shaking the blood off of his blade as he stood up. "Here's...here's the deal. You can tell all your friends about this as much as you want when this is over. But you and I," he sheathed his knife behind the small of his back, "will never speak of this again."

Ethan shrugged. It was about all he could think of doing after what he had just pulled off as he glanced back down at the Elite's broken mandibles. He cocked his head, thinking about all those days in CQC training. Just might have been the first time they paid off in the field. "What next?" Krone did that swivel-headed survey that he did back on the fifth floor. Ethan tapped his fingers on his weapon. "Uh, Mi-?"

"We've got time," he said, still scanning the hall, "we can afford to explore all options."

"Alright." Wilks let the ODST do his thing. Even though Mike wasn't at all that higher in rank than he was, Ethan found his judgment to be reliable. Hell, it only did save his life more than once in the past ten minutes. If they weren't in any rush, Ethan was willing to take his word for it and give him the ten seconds he needed to decide that the elevator shaft was their best option. Krone hadn't said anything yet but Ethan could tell by the way his head locked forward down the hall. All Ethan had to do was follow his gaze and look over his shoulder. "You know, I actually agree with you on this one." They made their way to the elevator and pried the doors open. They were met with the pitch black abyss that was the building's central elevator shaft.

Wilks tensed up as he felt Krone smack his shoulder. "Glad to see we're on the same page," the Marine said, clasping his hands together and cocked his head at the support cables dangling down the center of the shaft. "We got one harness. Should we draw straws?"

"Nah, that's okay. It's your harness. Here. Gimme a hand."

Mike held onto Ethan's arm as he leaned into the mechanical abyss. "Bit further." Krone had to hold the wall just to be a lifeline. Keeping over two hundred pounds worth of muscle and equipment from falling wasn't easy from where he was standing. Hundreds of credits in taxpayers' money and he could still feel the grip padding on his glove sliding against the wall.

"Easy does it...gotcha!" Krone pulled Wilks back in, cable in hand. "You go ahead. I'll secure your harness once you're down."

"Roger. Oh, one more thing." Krone pointed at Wilks' helmet. "I need to sync up with your comm network. I wasn't able to contact you earlier when you were on the fifth floor."

"Ah crap. My radio's filtering out non-assigned chatter. I was thinking about just leaving it on a squad-based channel rather than making the voices become a crowd."

Mike shook his head. "You don't want to do that. Here," Krone synced Ethan's frequency into a comm channel slot labeled as "Null" and set it to a secure network. Ethan had already gotten the hint and opened his network setting to "Open." Krone toggled his comm and spoke. "That got it?"

The deep voice echoed in Ethan's helmet. "Yeah. I hear you."

"Alright. Synchronize with my channel."

Wilks started toying with his communication system as Krone slipped down into the dark. It was a rookie mistake to leave a radio set to a closed network and forget to change it under the circumstances. He only hoped that Krone wasn't already losing patience with him. His VISR Comm Data page strobed blue for a moment, acknowledging that "Null" was in his channel presents. "That better?" he said into his radio.

"Yeah, that's got it." He eased his way down the line, his thermal optics scanning the shaft floor by floor. "Like I said, you don't want your radio to have selective hearing like that."

"I'm guessing that crowd of voices is just something to get use to then."

"Yeah. For all you know someone could be shouting 'tank' and you wouldn't know it. Admittedly, it's annoying, but it can save you if you know what to listen for." Krone gently set his boots down on the bottom of the shaft. "It's clear. Come on down."

Ethan secured Krone's line, clipping it to his utilities rather than carelessly letting it fall down the shaft. He then eased his way down on the support cable. He shut his eyes tightly as he felt gravity pulling at him again only this time wasn't as pleasant as the first. Rappelling was one thing, but having to climb downward on a rope without giving into the urge to fall was another.

"It's okay, Wilks. Take your time. I got us covered from down here."

Ethan took a breath, surprisingly reassured and then made his way down the line. It was a relief when he felt his boots touch ground again. He unclipped the Krone's line from his gear. "Gravity's a bitch ain't it?" He said.

"You have no idea," Krone replied, accepting his cord. The Marine nodded Ethan to the elevator door behind him as he approached the one near him.

"Got it."

The two formed up on either side of the shaft and gingerly opened the elevator doors. Ethan peered into the lobby, switching to VISR mode. Though he could only see his half of the lobby, he could tell the area was pretty wide open save for a four columns that towered over the marble entrance and then main corridor. The Covenant had sure spent some time retrofitting this area for a communications post. He slowly saw a red outline come out from behind the marble column. The lines began to multiply as the patrols went along their paths.

"I count...four of them," Ethan reported, keeping his gaze on the lingering patrol like a kid watching an ant farm at work. "Jackal pair on lookout by the door...scratch that. Six. Four more grunts doing busy work."

"Lead by an Elite major" Krone added. "Plus one more minor."

"Any ideas?"

Krone kept his gaze on the lobby for a few more moments before sliding back down beneath the the shaft door. He pulled back the action on his BR55, inspecting the breach before locking it back in place. "The only way we're leaving this building is through the front door. Since we can't just walk past them all, we need to do some thinking." Krone took his eyes off the rifle and looked up at Ethan. "And that's where we a tactical assessment."

Wilks froze. He could tell Krone was testing him, otherwise they probably would have been through the lobby by now with eight more confirmed kills on their records. "'Tactical assessment.'"

"You're the specialist. Impress me."

"Well...like you said, we can't just rush out the front door. Sneaking past them doesn't look too promising either, and back-up just simply isn't coming so..."

Krone brought his finger up for a moment to stop Ethan. "When setting out a plan, focus more on what you can do rather than what you can't. Look at restrictions after exploring your options to rule out the ones that won't work."

"How will that help?"

"It's easier to compare the possible outcome of each."

"Right..."

Ethan had never really been taught that method in training, only the technicalities of dynamic entry and whatnot. It was almost as if Krone was suggesting an positive attitude towards choosing the course of action.

"So where should I start then?"

"Start with the only friend that you can trust."

Not much thought had to be put into that statement, especially after being in the Marines for so long. The realization actually made Ethan smile. Your weapon is your best friend. It was almost like his drill instructor was shouting it back to him all the way from Outpost 19. "Check your gear."


	7. Chapter 7

[Sorry for the long over-due hiatus to whoever has been keeping up with this story. I feel this chapter was somewhat rushed because of a dragging scene meant for simple character development. I promise to kick myself in the head to do better when writing the next chapters.]

**Kiyabako Plaza East**

**Twenty Minutes After First Drop**

A haze of metal and blurs surrounded Private Kate Vansen as she struggled to recover herself fully to consciousness. Light was flooding into her pod. There was absolutely no power. The hatch release didn't even work as she tried to get out of the pod. She braced herself against the back of her seat and brought her knee up to her chest. With all the strength she could manage, Kate thrust her boot forward into the damaged hatch on her pod and sent it tumbling forward. She leaped out onto the solid ground, hitting the concrete with a dull thud. "Ow..."

Her entire landing platform surrounding her looked barren, desolate, save for the yellow lines painted into the floor. She had landed on the roof of a parking structure, a rather empty one at that. She went back to retrieve her M7S and M6C/SOCOM from their slots, holstering the pistol on her thigh, bringing the SMG to a ready position. Gunfire could be heard in the distance. A mixture of smoke, plasma, fire, and the all too conspicuous Covenant carrier lingered on the horizon.

Kate sighed and brought up the map from her VISR database. The three dimensional bird's eye view of the city placed her a good mile and a half from her objective and another two miles from the thick of the combat. "It just had to be me this time..." She tested her comm system, whistling into the microphone. "Anyone hear me? Sarge? Shepard?" She tapped her helmet a few times. "Wilksie, you out there?" Static was the only answer, leaving Kate with one option; regroup. She pulled the stock back on her M7. "Best get walking then."

As she moved with a steady jog to her original drop mark, she couldn't help but notice how empty the city streets were. The towering architecture of the city seemed to cast a slight shadow of tranquility over the sidewalk she was on. Of course, at its current angle though, the sun was still lighting up most of the city. Aside from the peaceful scenery, the only ambient sound was the distant clash between UNSC and Covenant forces.

There wasn't much that Kate could hope to do as one person, but it was better waiting back at her insertion point like a child, waiting to get picked up from school by her parents. The idea made Kate laugh quietly as she pictured herself being airlifted with the team, whining about not getting a chance to fire her gun at all. She shook her head at her upbeat sense of humor. It was an unrealistic thought, reestablishing contact after the fighting ended, but that was the point of fantasizing.

Snapping back to the streets, she pressed herself against the wall of a nearby building. Smoke was streaming along with the breeze from the adjacent street. She moved in closer for a better view, met with another crash site. Surprisingly, it wasn't from an HEV. It was, in fact, a Pelican dropship. It did a number on the building that it crashed into before hitting street level and plasma burns were visible all over the wreckage. With any luck, there would be something among the mess that she could use. Kate snugged her weapon tight against her shoulder as she closed in. She wasn't just about to rule out possibility of a hostile presence. The dropship was _shot_ down afterall.

She eased her head to the left, looking past the corner. The pile was dominating the sidewalk and the shoulder of the road. The nose was actually inside the building that Kate was facing past the intersection. The ship was relatively intact, it wasn't even on fire but there was plenty of burning material surrounding. Damage isn't horrendous, she thought, someone might have lived through it. Priority one; check for survivors.

Kate studied the crash site, counting off the visible crew. One face down in the middle of the street, a Marine, donned in standard issue BDU. There was another, a Helljumper, slouched downward with his back against the wreckage. The poor guy's armor was covered in scorch marks and soot. Optimism said he was alive. How else could he have sat himself up like that?

The Marine hunched over all of the sudden, landing on his side. Kate stopped herself from rushing to his aid as he did. Moving out of a supported posture like that was pretty impressive...for a dead man. _What the hell? Now I gotta deal with zombies? What are you up to?_ His visor suddenly depolarized and he was looking in her direction. _He fell on purpose._ He tried to mouth a few words to her but the stifling helmet blocked her from seeing most of his face, including his mouth.

What he was trying to say didn't matter. A light bulb had already switched on in her head, making her want to step further away from the corner. She always thought there was more to a situation than could be seen. Just this time she was actually right. The warning signs were there. A Marine wouldn't be playing dead like that in the open. Two to one odds said she was already too late to get out of side, and that a sniper was watching her every move. But then again, they would've taken the shot by now unless they hoped to be luring a whole team in with her.

Kate looked over her shoulder, contemplating her previous path. That thought was immediately dismissed the moment it came to mind; she wasn't going to leave a fellow soldier behind. She turned back to to try to communicate with the Marine only to see that the man had blackened his visor again, slumping over lifelessly in the street, refusing to move at all.

That's when Vansen heard the heavy _thump_ of an Elite's boot shocking through the asphalt. Kate hugged the wall, pressing her shoulder hard into it as the sound drew nearer. The steps were slow, steady and cautious. He knew something was up. Kate only hoped that the Helljumper's cover wasn't blown. She was digging into the wall with all of her weight as if she were trying to phase through it. A flash of blue emerged in her line of sight, confirming her fears. Her gloved hands tightened around her M7 as she saw the seven foot hulk come into view just past the corner. Luckily, the Elite had his back turned to her, but he was still headed for the injured Marine.

Despite the fact that her shot couldn't have been better, the private didn't want to risk opening fire on the Elite. If his shields were up, then her SMG wouldn't have the stopping power to put him down in time. She saw him nudge the Marine's body with his hoof-like foot.

"Shit," Kate whispered, thankful for her muted helmet. "Shit. Shit. Shit." The Elite wasn't leaving. He just stood there, making sure the bait to his trap was dead. _Oh get the fuck out already, you asshole._ The Sangheili showed himself to be smarter than that, raising his boot over the Marine's helmet.

"Screw this." Kate wasn't about to let a friendly get his head crushed by a split-lip coward. She raised her M7, leveling the reflex sight's holographic crosshairs on him when suddenly she heard the momentary scream of a high velocity bullet zipping through the air. Her eyes locked in on her target just in time to see his neck explode into a cloud of purple, sending the rest of his head rolling onto the asphalt.

"Holy shit," Vansen cursed with shock before the Elite's body hit the ground. Down the street, Kate heard a Grunt scream at the sight of his leader's headless corpse. _I knew it!_ She clenched her teeth, shooting a quick glance around the corner to acquire her targets, the small handful of Grunts that had panicked out of their vantage point for the ambush. She then brought herself out of cover with her SMG pressed tight against her shoulder.

The weapon was surprisingly quiet, firing with a soft _prrrrrt_ from the suppressor. The caseless armor-piercing rounds made short work of the few Grunts that were scattered in the street. As soon as the immediate threat was gone, Kate turned her attention back to the Marine. Field tactics usually dictated that a team is one hundred and ten percent sure that the area is clear before tending to wounded, but in this case the private didn't have much time. She could only hope that the shooter who killed the Elite was still watching as she ran to aid the Helljumper.

A volley of pink needles zipped past her helmet and forced her back into cover behind a car. With the momentum she had already built up by running, Kate couldn't fully recover from the slide and her shoulder guard ended up shattering the tail light. "I'm so not paying for that..." she mumbled, waiting for the Grunts to reload or at least overheat their weapons. Suddenly, a few more Grunts hit the ground to the spaced _pow pow pow_ of a DMR's semi-automatic tune. The sound made her smile with hope. "Tanner." He was the only Marine she knew of who kept the out-dated combat rifle after the Reach engagement.

_"Keep focused on him, Kate,"_ Ryan's voice growled on the wires, _"I got you covered!"_

Kate's smile faded into a puzzled look. "Ryan?" She was slightly more reassured to find out that he was there on sniper overwatch. But the presence of Tanner left many possibilities open to assumption. She rushed out again, ducking into a low sprint just in time to grab hold of the injured Helljumper's chest plate, dragging him back inside the Pelican for cover.

"Holy shit," he spat, coughing as Vansen went to remove his helmet. The man had taken blood spatter from when the Elite ate a supersonic bullet. Kate was still able to read "Perez" through all of the purple blood on his chestplate. "That's the last time I'm taking a dropship down to any surface."

Kate smiled and set down her M7 to inspect Perez' injuries. She could only hope that Tanner and Ryan had her backside covered, maybe even the whole team backing them. That was probably the case, or they were both lost. Even though the sergeant trusted every one of them, he hated leaving his team guideless. He always made it his responsibility to watch after them.

" Backing out of the rush of an orbital drop," Kate joked, mockingly shaking her head as she went for the small can of biofoam on her hip, "God, what were you thinking?"

Another Grunt yelped out in the street as a shot impacted. "New Mombasa. City, island. Two things I don't want to land the wrong way on." He nodded to the can of foam. "Save it, it's just my hands." Kate leaned closer to notice the man's hands were burned, shaking. His gloves had practically melted over his skin and his arm guards were practically charred. "Tried to pull the pilot out. Instruments blew and cooked most of the cockpit before I could get to him."

"Shit..." Kate didn't have anything to treat burns. Though, luckily, the fighting started to sound like it was dying down. All she could hear mostly were distant cries of grunts and projectile based fire.

"I know," he laughed, "I wasn't thinking hard enough until the plasma started hitting us."

"No. I know where you're coming from. Island; you could miss and hit the water. Metropolis city like Mombasa; worst kind of terrain you could hope to land on with all the buildings around." She pulled a tube of ointment out from the kit. "Hold still."

The Marine's eyes widened as she went to squeeze the paste out onto his hands. "Ah!"

"I didn't even touch y-"

"Six! Six!"

Six o'clock. Kate simultaneously drew her pistol as she looked over her shoulder for the target. A single Grunt was attempting to bum rush a few car lengths away while holding a pair of live grenades, laughing hysterically as it did.

"My life for the Cove-!"

Kate's quickdraw landed a clean shot on the Grunt's head. Its body tumbled face first into the pavement, vanishing into a neon blue cloud of plasma shortly after. Kate was frozen, still pointing her pistol downrange for a moment before she took a breath. "Well he got what he wanted..."

"Down, girl."

Kate shook her head and went back to applying the ointment to Perez' hands. Another series of shots were fired, this time they were right outside the Pelican. Kate picked up her weapon and turned around to see Ryan following the Grunts' retreat, shoulder-firing a DMR. "Ryan!" she called, trying to raise her voice above the shots. Perez nodded the woman in the direction of her teammate, insuring that he didn't need any more aid. She checked their surroundings before approaching him. "Hold your fire! They're falling back!"

Ryan let the rifle hang from its sling and drew his M6C to continue firing down the street. "Go ahead and run, you fuckers! I got all day to kill you!" Ryan yelled as he then topped off his magazine in their direction.

"Stand down Goddammit!" He eased up and lowered his weapon, finally turning to face Kate. He didn't want to look her in the eye. He didn't even depolarize his visor. "You done?" He nodded and cycled another magazine into his pistol slowly, trying to reassure her that he wouldn't start firing again. She took a second look at his rifle. There was no doubt about it. That was Tanner's rifle. "What happened to the sergeant?"

Ryan hesitated for a moment, briefly looking at the ground before he shook his head. "Gone." Cold blood shot through Vansen as Ryan confirmed what she had feared. It felt like a hole had hollowed out her chest. The man was practically family to everyone he served with. He gently ran his hand down the side of the rifle. "I still don't feel right about carrying this."

Tanner always kept the weapon in working condition, always took care of it as an example to his subordinates of how they should treat their arsenal. For that, Ryan respected the man too much to want to ever go near the rifle. "He'd be happy to know it's in your hands."

"I guess..." Kate could hear a sharp sniff beneath his muted helmet. _Distract him_.

"What happened to the rest of the team?"

"Hawks and Dito are KIA, and Bowski's missing."

"And the objective?" Ryan shook his head. "Shit..."

Ryan followed Kate back to the Pelican. As soon as he knelt down under the safety of the wreckage, he nodded to Perez as he laid back flat against the Pelican's floor. "What happened to you?"

Perez jolted his head up. "I was rigged up like a puppet. Covenant thought I was dead so they propped my ass upright to make it look like I was alive. They did the same to Gibson after they killed him trying to make a break for it." He nodded to body of the Marine in the middle of the street.

"He tipped me off by falling over out of his stage-look," Kate said, wrapping a bandage around his hands. "Suspected it was a trap, but-"

"You would've been shot by then," Ryan finished. Kate shot a suspecting look at him. "Yes. I was at a perfect vantage point for the shot. I kinda stole it from the Kig-Yar that was meant to greet you."

"You've got a sense of timing alright." Perez winced in pain as Kate tightened up a bandage. "He's in no shape to fight, Ryan. We're better off finding another team to back us up."

"We have a deadline...Kate. You know we don't have that kind of time on our hands." He set his hands back on the DMR, turning away for a moment before shooting back around at her with his finger. "And don't even think about calling it quits. Technically, I hold rank right now."

"You know me better than that, Ryan."

"I know," he shrugged. Kate could finally see him calming down a little. "Just emphasis...I don't want 'em to have died for nothing." Kate nodded in agreement. "So we are going to carry out this objective come hell or high water."

"If you need backup," Perez said, nodding his head at the street corner past the both of them, "you could try that help kiosk over there. I wouldn't doubt you're the only ones that are lost around here. Our pass codes should let you access the Superintendent's security feeds."

Kate nodded. "Leading us right to primary UNSC ground forces." She patted the Marine on the head. "Good job, grunt."

"I try."

"What about you?" Ryan asked.

"I'll be fine. I may not be able to hold a gun but I can sure as hell walk. I'll lay low until I got a straight shot to a green zone."

Kate opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Ryan had already grabbed her shoulder. "Good luck," he said bluntly, "Stay alert, stay alive." Perez just smiled and gave them a lazy salute while they crossed the street to the kiosk.

"Ryan!" Kate grumbled quietly as she shook her arm from Shepard's grasp.

Shepard stopped to secure Gibson's tags and weapon, winding up to toss it at Kate. "He said he'd be okay." Vansen almost flinched as she caught the BR55 against her chestplate. "Now let's move."

"You could've at least said something a bit more inspiring, you heartless jerk."

Kate turned to access the city terminal, imputing the pass code that the Navy techs had downloaded to each ODST's VISR Comm data. The screen lit up green and she was in, greeted by the two dimensional Superintendent character. "He'll have to manage without it. And I still think we can take the objective on our own." Kate peeled her eyes from the screen and glared at Ryan. She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, but either way it made him sound like an idiot.

"More emphasis, Ryan?"

"It's not impossible. I'm just saying, we're wasting time trying to break off our course to find more bodies to pull away from their objective just to bring them back here and destroy a single AA gun."

Kate shook her head and continued digging through the terminal for any camera feeds on a nearby LZ. "Leave the logistics to me, killer. That's what I'm here for." The AI kept trying to block and reroute her from security to a map layout of the city. Kate slammed her fist on the control panel. "Come on, you fucker!"

"Right. Logistics. He's clearly agreeing with you there."

Superintendent's once neutral expression began to flash red, cringing its "face" into an angry scowl. "Looks like I offended it..." She let the AI run its course without interruption. A city layout almost instantly started to download into her helmet's VISR system. Within seconds, it was complete and she had a full view of everything within a two mile radius. There were a number of green blips on the map, representing friendly transponders. "Get out..."

"What?"

"Hold on."

Camera feeds were being streamed live through her HUD. They were covering an AA location, surveying the spot from multiple angles to give her a full slab of fresh intel. At the same time, her VISR system tossed a red way-point on her map, marking the location of the emplacement. "This AI just gave us all the tactical data we need to get it done."

Ryan glanced at the screen on the kiosk. It was streaming the same video while marking the location on a mini-map in the corner. "That's it. That was our objective location. The one our team was assigned to."

"It looks like he's sided with you."

"Of course. I'm always right."

"Bull-shit."

Ryan shook his head as he saw the camera feeds. Armor mixed with infantry. It wasn't a good mix for a two-troop operation. "Seriously, though. I'm with you on this one now. There's way too much firepower for just us to handle."

"Wait wait wait..." Kate stopped him to notice additional footage of ODSTs who had been scattered upon entry. Some of them were at terminals, some were just following the digital street signs. Each of them was being guided by Mombasa's Superintendent AI to a rally point set up in a safe zone just outside of the target area. It was as if the Super had decided to direct the objective personally. Kate let a smile come across her face again. "Clever."

"Looks like he sided with both of us."

"Let's get on it then. Don't want to keep our friends waiting." They left the terminal to set out for the makeshift rally point. Kate briefly turned around to blow a kiss at the screen and mouth a "thank you." The AI answered her with an expression that mocked a smiling face. She turned back to Ryan as they patrolled down the street. "I think I made a friend."


	8. Chapter 8

[Still not dead. Just got back into a comfortable writing groove and so I finished this one up and re-upload the chapter. I know there isn't much more than previous, and that's because there was going to be more to this one, but that would risk mashing too much into one chapter. Besides, I feel like being sadistic and keep you waiting.]

**New Mombasa Financial District**

**Twenty Minutes After Drop**

"Run it by me again," Wilks said, quietly sliding a fresh cartridge of buck shot into his rifle attachment.

Krone inspected the chambered round in his BR55 before gently letting go of the action. "Two M9 frags, three smoke canisters. And you're carrying two frags and three flashbangs, correct?"

Wilks nodded. Close Quarters Battle always favored the use of stun grenades in its book of tactics. Ethan passed it with flying colors when it came to fitting a grenade throw wherever possible. "Out of curiosity, why smoke? You don't seem like the subtle type, what with jumping whole distances between buildings and all…which was cool by the way."

Krone shrugged. "Enemies behave a lot differently when you limit their sight. You'll see. Besides, its effect lasts no matter the distance." The last part of his statement he closed while gesturing to the magnesium flashbang in Ethan's hand. Remaining unseen was golden for gaining the upper hand in a fight and smoke was an easy way of quickly achieving invisibility. For Mike, this was a key element in every kind of combat, whether it is a full assault, evasion, or stealth.

Ethan nodded. "Right. It's close quarters and enclosed, so a stun's more appropriate."

"We could always go with both."

Wilks opened his mouth to disagree. It was an unnecessary waste of resources up until he remembered that they'd have to leave the building. The flashbang wouldn't reach much farther past the lobby doors and there was bound to be some kind of exterior patrol. Smoke would obscure their sight and give them a slightly higher chance of slipping through. "That works."

Krone thumbed the safety on his weapon to make sure it was off. "Alright. Ready up."

They both stood up in the shaft, manning the doors on either side. The moment Wilks began to pry his doors open, the image of a grotesque, stub-legged Unngoy boot came into view. He immediately dropped down and ducked beneath the doorway. Krone let go of the ledge beneath his door and quietly fell along his side. As the Grunt sentry lazily shifted his weight, swaying back and forth, Mike pulled out his suppressed Automag pistol and lined up the sight along the narrow opening in the elevator doors.

The Grunt bounced up on his feet once more, sniffed the air and then went on his way toward the lobby, not even noticing that the elevator door was slightly ajar. Wilks stopped holding his breath, looking over his shoulder at Krone. Mike's expression wasn't much different than that of Ethan's petrified look. He shrugged it off quicker than Wilks though, and then proceeded to form up on his door again. "Let's try that."

"Works for me," Ethan said as he moved in tandem with Krone. With as little force as needed, Ethan pulled his door open. Look left, look right. "Clear."

"Clear," Mike confirmed with a low, almost guttural whisper. "Move now."

Ethan pulled the doors open wide enough to let him through and squeezed through. He was in the hallway now. "Cover" was the first word that flashed in his mind. Luckily, finding cover wasn't much of an issue, for there was an abandoned cargo dolly on the side loaded with a few office supplies. "Moving."

Wilks rolled across the hall, recovered, then slipped on over to his cover._ "Careful."_ The radio did well to bring out the roughness in Krone's voice. Ethan rubbed his throat, feeling the vibration detectors embedded in his uniform collar. That's probably what was doing it. Throat vibration mics always made everyone sound a little demonic.

The private looked over the fax machine on his shoulder to see the Grunt standing at the mouth of the hallway. "In position."

"Standby," Krone replied, backed into the doorway of a janitor's closet, waiting for his sentry to turn back away. He watched the Grunt's reflection in the marble floor about face and continue his patrol. _This one's actually paying attention_. It wasn't shuffling its feet like most of its kind and it was walking at a slow pace. He was being thorough. Mike slung his BR55 and stalked the Grunt, knife in hand as he followed.

"_In position. Awaiting orders,"_ Ethan repeated.

"Hold." Mike reversed his grip on the knife. The Grunt stopped, beginning to turn his head. The Helljumper didn't give the sentry another second, lunging forward, closing the distance in a fraction of a second. He grabbed hold of the Grunt by his breathing mask and pulled him back. Krone then plunged his knife through the alien's chestplate.

"_Krone. I'm ready to take these guys out. I'm gonna need your help."_

Krone looked down into the hateful, dying eyes of the Grunt sentry. Blood began to stream out from beneath its breather as the Unggoy fought just to snarl at him. It began to reach back, weakly thrashing as it continued to bleed out. Mike tightened his grip on the Grunt's face and pulled it to the side, rewarded with a quiet smack.

"_Krone."_

Mike hefted the body out of sight and drew his weapon. He now had a clear shot to the lobby. He readied a smoke canister with his free hand and keyed his radio.

Ethan nervously tapped his fingers against the grip of his assault rifle. He gently pulled back on his shotgun attachment to recheck if it was loaded. Just like before, there were 8 gauges of buckshot. Paranoia was a plague for Ethan. No matter how much he knew not to give in to it, he couldn't help the failure scenarios from entering his mind. Have we been made? Am I on my own? Do I have to change my strategy?

"_In position."_ Ethan took a short breath of relief as he heard the reply. _"Go when ready."_

The rookie took a deep breath. Boot camp was coming back to him again with the weight of the flashbang in his hand. His friend Stosh would always complain about that part of dynamic entry training, how Ethan would always get to toss the grenade in. Fact is, since day one of training, he always knew how to throw it in properly. In live fire exercises, he would stand there listening to his partner bickering about who's deploying. They'd argue for a minute, far too long until Ethan would just say "Stoshy, you can't throw for shit."

This was the real thing now. Wilks acknowledged the reality entirely, feeling the flash grenade's pin resist his thumb. No more altercating antics, no joking around. He peeked over his cover once more. Still clear, he slipped the pin out of the grenade. "Three. Two..." Ethan tossed the flashbang over his cover. It graciously soared over the unvigilant sentry's head. "Execute."

The walloping bang of the stun grenade clashed against the marble walls of the lobby and rattled through the hallway, accompanied by its excruciatingly bright obscurant. No more than a second after detonation, Ethan barreled around his cover, weapon ready and rushing for his first target. The Grunt screamed and cradled his head as he staggered desperately away from the lobby. Its blurred sight tried to make out the shape coming towards him. The sentry's eyes wanted to close from the fluid buildup, but he managed to commit them to staying open, just in time to make out the shape of a rifle stock coming at his face.

As soon as he confirmed that the detonation yielded results, Krone bolted from his hallway into step two. Adrenaline washed his mind clear of everything but his designated targets. If the trooper missed one, their whole entry would be sabotaged. That made Mike have to force himself to rely on Wilks, a man he hardly saw in combat for a minute. There was no telling if the rookie's performance would deliver, but then again becoming an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper meant exceeding expectations.

The Marine stopped halfway through the hallway behind one of the marble support columns. Marble. What better cover for a firing position, he thought as he leveled his sights on the two Jackals guarding the entrance. As they flailed and hissed at the blinding flash, Mike put two rounds into each of them. The first went down instantly. The second however was still on its knees. He realigned his sights and pulled the trigger, watching its eye explode into a cloud of purple. _Five hostiles remaining._

Wilks' mind eased at the gunshots. That meant the way was clear for him to advance now from his cover. He glanced across the lobby at Krone, who nodded his approval. At that, they both rounded from their columns and shot down the last two Grunts before focusing fire on the Elite Major and his subordinate just to the left of the entrance. The bullets made a ripple effect against their shields, the kinetic barriers brightened gradually with each hit before bursting.

The Minor crumbled into a thick purple mess of his own blood that pooled around him on the tiled floor. Before they could acquire the Major he had already slipped into cover behind another column.

"Shit!" Wilks howled, dropping a spent magazine.

"Fuck!" Krone followed. Ethan could have sworn he saw the man about to resort to his knife rather than reloading. At that moment he saw the stairwell door begin to swing open, the green glow of an energy pistol on point.

"On your nine! Get down!"

Mike acknowledged the warning despite the fact that Ethan was violating rules of shooting by selecting a target that was still in the same field as him. He heard his partner let loose with a pair of double-taps from his sidearm.

To his surprise, Wilks had managed to do his job. The Grunt was barely standing, holding its throat as blue matter squirted from its wound. Not a second later it crashed into the stairway door back-first. They could hear the sound of its heavy tank-rigged body rolling down each step to the basement.

Mike acknowledged Ethan with a nod as he reloaded. Angry slews of Sangheili bellowed out from the Major's cover ahead of them. It was as if he was cursing too in his own language. Either that or he was calling for back-up. Nevertheless, he had to be silenced.

As soon as he reloaded, Mike signaled Ethan to advance, waving a hand in the direction of the column. Ethan responded, readying up his shotgun attachment. He glanced over once more to make sure Krone had the entrance covered. The Marine took another breath and began to move. The silence unnerved Ethan as he cut through the center of the lobby. Facing an intermission in the middle of a firefight can be good for recovering, but in moments where the enemy was almost literally around the corner, seconds could determine life or death.

Ethan jumped at the sudden sound of the stairwell door being forced open. "Contacts!" Krone shouted over the sound of his BR55. Ethan wanted to look but he didn't dare take his sight off of the Elite's last known location. They weren't getting away from whatever was behind them until their entry was complete.

Ethan's heart pounded like a battle drum, tapping to the beat of his footsteps. He could barely even hear the gunfire behind him, or if Krone was even firing for that matter. Just as Ethan thought he was about to get a drop on the unshielded Sangheili, it came rounding the corner to meet him half way in a desperate charge. Its split mouth was agape, the roar muffled by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. What stood before him imprinted itself in his mind, not as a horror, but as a reminder. In an unnaturally long second, Ethan had already familiarized himself with the fanatical zeal of the Elite warriors.

It was odd. He expected himself to freeze up, panic. The truth was he was ready for him. Its shields were down and Ethan's finger was already in the trigger ring. Now, as he felt the rifle kicking back into his arm, all he could think about was that 8 gauge shot cluster ripping into the Elite's chest. The Major's armor gave in, the chestplate collapsing under the crushing force as the shot threw him off of his hooves.

Ethan found his senses suddenly pulled back into the fight by the loud clap of BR55 fire. He turned to see his partner backpedaling through the lobby while trying to suppress the stairwells on either side. "We're going loud!" Mike shouted.

"Loud?" Ethan repeated, as if to question Krone's definition of "subtle."

Mike grabbed Ethan's vest collar and pulled him behind the column just in time for a salvo of green plasma to wash over it. "Fire at will!"

Ethan faced the building entrance, the smoke screen covering the shattered doors. His visor revealed a group of Covenant, by the blob of a thermal trace he was guessing to be about fireteam strength, approaching their position from the streets. "Hostiles coming in the front!"

"Handle it!"

The ODSTs were literally between a rock and a hard place. Even though the street reinforcements couldn't see them yet, they were about to get cornered. They had to move now, but it would take a leap of faith. "Get ready to move," Ethan finally said, loading another shell into his undersling. "I got the door."

Krone pulled back into their limited cover to reload. Without questioning Ethan's judgment, he clicked in a fresh magazine and drew an M9 HE-DP grenade. "Roger."


	9. Chapter 9

[Still alive. Quick change that I've made from the last chapters. Krone is actually a Corporal, not a PFC. It just didn't feel at all that right as far as experience goes.]

**New Mombasa Financial District**

**Thirty Minutes After Drop**

Krone jerked back as another bolt of plasma chipped off a piece of his and Ethan's cover. He was unsure whether or not he wanted to smile at the lunacy the new boot Marine's plan. Their plan to exit the lobby could have gone only one of two ways; either they pull it off and both make it out alive or end up dead from just trying. Mike knew this. In fact, he probably understood it better than his ragtag partner. _Why not_, he thought as he placed a thumb over the primer on his grenade. _We're out of options and I'm all for a standup fight._

There was one thing he was sure of. _This is gonna be one for this kid's highlight reel._ Just then, Ethan reached back and smacked Krone's shoulder guard to signal he was ready. The moment he felt the hit, Mike sent the grenade over his shoulder and clattering back across the lobby floor. He then replied by nudging Ethan with his shoulder. "Go, go, go!"

Marines bolted up out of their cover their advance back-to-back. Krone went fangs out with his rifle, covering their backside with full auto fire. Ethan shouldered his own weapon and cut loose on the reinforcements coming from the front. Within seconds, the Helljumpers had vanished into the smoke screen. A cloud of dust and secondary shrapnel followed a short chorus of screams from the grunt squad behind them.

Ethan was no longer sure if he was hearing his own weapon or Krone's. The only time he was certain was when he slammed out another 8 gauge shell into the hostile group. The red threat outlines faded one after the other in HUD's thermal display. The few remaining started to disperse in a half-circle around the smoke, around them. "Krone!"

"I know!"

Immediately, Krone pulled away from rear defense and sided shoulder to shoulder with Wilks, combining fire before the Covvies could surround them. One after the other, Grunts dropped around them, either dead or bleeding out as they crashed into the asphalt. Sweat beaded down Mike's brow as he watched his rifle's ammo reader drop past 18 rounds. They were only half way through the street across from the alley way they were trying to reach and reloading would leave them open for too long. This was cutting it close.

Ethan had already depleted his magazine and began compensating with his shotgun underbarrel. He fired them one after the other, and by the time the second shot rang the Grunts began to frenzy. The resounding 8 gauge _bang_ added more shellshock to the sight of their leader's bloody demise by an unseen force inside the smoke.

_Now's our chance_, Mike thought as he dropped the empty magazine. He gave Ethan a quick jab on the shoulder to signal he was advancing to their next phase. In a flash, he made his way across the remainder of the street and just outside the adjacent alley. The Marine swung around into a kneel as Ethan bolted into the alley.

That feeling of security escaped Wilks as he left the smoke cloud. They were in the open now. He slid behind a dumpster before turning around to cover his partner.

"Set!"

"Moving!"

Wilks fired off the last five rounds in his mag just in time for Mike to get into position behind another trash can across from him. "Go!" Krone shouted as he watched the Grunts panic and scatter. It was good not to have worry about burning up ammunition on suppressing fire in this case.

Just as Wilks rounded the corner, a Ghost patrol vehicle hovered at the mouth of the alley ahead and started to draw a bead on their position. His titanium reinforced boots scraped the pavement when he put the brakes on and stumbled back into cover. A slew of curses followed him along with a barrage of automatic plasma fire.

"Goddammit," Mike grumbled as he recognized the pitch and tone of the Ghost's repeaters. Heated bolts chipped off burning bits of the alley walls and scorched the dumpsters that shielded them. Even metal cover lost its durability after a while. He pulled his sight away from covering their exit and signaled Wilks to the Ghost. "Draw his fire!"

As Ethan blind fired over the top of the dumpster, Mike pulled out his salvaged plasma grenade—a perfectly spherical, blue, orb that was no larger than a tangerine. Its alien markings illuminated as they sensed Krone's thumb tracing over each character on the primer. He waited for the incoming fire from the Ghost to alter and focus on Ethan's side of the alley.

The moment he had his window, Mike pushed the primer and felt the grenade come to life in his hand, warming up instantly as he stood to throw it. The glowing Type-1 left a misty blue tail of plasma as it soared to its target, sticking directly onto the Ghost's left fin. "Down!"

The blast wasn't louder than that of an M9 grenade, but at this close it didn't matter. Once that core ruptured beneath that thermo-adhesive shell, Krone felt the sound pressure and concussion rattle through his cover and into his armor. _Stay away from the walls, _he thought as he placed a hand over his titanium helmet.

Heat washed over their cover. Wilks watched a charred hunk of violet alloy clatter past him and exchanged glances with Mike before he peaked around cover to confirm the Ghost was out of commission in the middle of the street; lying on its back, stripped of most plating, wisps of blue fire billowing from the detonated fender.

"Holy shi-"

Mike cut Ethan short. "Move!"

Without a second warning Ethan shot up and advanced. Mike followed along the right side of the alley; paralleling Wilks' movement, he pressed his back to the opposite corner and brought his sights on the streets past Ethan's corner.

Switching off his VISR, his thermal display was replaced by empty Mombasa scenery; scattered debris in the streets accompanied by abandoned vehicles, lifeless high rises and a bright sunlight that was dulled through his visor. Most importantly, it was clear.

"Clear left," he said.

"Right side clear!" came Ethan's reply.

"We can't keep this up. We'll lose 'em in there," he said with a nod toward an apartment building across the street.

"Works for me."

Mike waved his hand twice in a two-finger point to the location: a "go-code" signal for Ethan, who adjusted the weight of his rucksack before complying, sidestepping the smoldering heap of alien scrap as he ran.

He was tired. Krone could see it in the way he carelessly rushed through the open street; failing to double-check both directions or even keep his weapon up on the building's entrance. Ethan was newer to this, and that only made it easier for Krone to excuse such errors, as no-bullshit of a Marine as he was. After all, Ethan would have plenty of chances to get things right.

As he followed, the Ghost's remains rattled slightly and began to tilt to one side. From beneath the wreckage crawled the vehicle's pilot: a Sangheili minor; its blue armor now splotched with black and its exposed, reptilian skin singed with plasma burns.

Growling in a mix of pain and malice, the minor rolled onto his back and frantically pawed a four-fingered hand for the plasma rifle holstered on his thigh. Before it could draw, Mike shot two rounds into the Elite's head without even slowing his pace.

The moment the two entered the apartment lobby—a moderately spacious room that was dimmed due to a severed power grid—Wilks nearly keeled over, bracing one hand against the wall as he tried to catch his breath.

"Breathe," Krone said as he about-faced and covered their entrance.

"Wha-?"

"Take off your helmet and breathe. I got you covered."

Wilks did as instructed. A cool wash of air chilled his sweat-covered face. He ran a hand through his matted brown hair, which he had let grow just over regulation length just in time for an impromptu combat situation—a mistake he would have to live with until he was out of the city, or at least found a razor.

Normally, Krone wouldn't wait for anything below a constant operating pace, and right now this newfound rookie was burning up their time. But he couldn't rush a new boot on his first combat drop especially in a situation that didn't call for it like this—out of sight and in cover. Nonetheless, they still had their objectives.

"You good?"

"Yeah," Wilks coughed, finally gaining control of his breathing. "Yeah, gimme a sec." After replacing his helmet, he pressed himself off the floor with the stock of his weapon. "Hell of a rush…"

A muffled "yup" was all Mike could reply with. The "rush" that Wilks was talking about was long past the Corporal in his history. Combat became habitual in time, and each time he survived all that changed was the ammo count and tactics. But that was something the Private would have to learn on his own.

"Set," Wilks said, helmet donned and weapon ready.

Krone rose to his feet and pointed to a stairwell—the implication that he wanted Ethan to take point could hardly be clearer. "Let's move. There's a Marine company north of here. We need to get a higher view of the streets for an exit—then we rendezvous and go from there."

Wilks complied, approached the door back first. "We still in a hurry?" he said, his tone relaxed.

"Always." Mike tried his best to hint that he wasn't amused; his voice monotone, his weapon at the ready. "If they don't chase us after a block, then they don't bother."

"Sounds like we got lucky." Just as Wilks nudged the door open, the clawed, boney hands of a Kig-Yar scout shot out from the doorway and seized him by the throat—pressed its weight over his weapon, pinning it against the Marine's chest as he stumbled back. Krone raised his rifle to fire but before he could acquire a shot, a second scout blind-sided him from the stairwell and grabbed hold of the BR55.

Even through his protective collar, Ethan could feel claws jabbing into his neck. The sensation was nearly worse than the pressure on his larynx, and yet his first instinct was focusing on his assault rifle, pushing back with the stock. Vision blurring, he searched back into his training for anything to use against his opponent, and before he knew it, his knee was driving up into its rib cage.

Instead of keeping his grasp on the weapon, Mike humored the Jackal by letting go of the handle and winding his right arm back. With a dull smack, his elbow guard connected with the Kig-Yar's reptilian mouth. He threw his arm back and struck a second time, a mix of purple blood and sharp teeth flying from the alien's broken jaw. His opponent dazed, Mike let his grasp from the rifle completely—spun to his left, placing himself back to back with the scout. With both hands, he reached back over his shoulder—taking hold of the Jackal's throat and snout—then pulled down with all of his weight. A series of short cracks rang out and the scout was dead.

Just as Ethan managed to knee his opponent a second time, the Jackal was thrown off of him by an armored elbow ramming into its side, sending it staggering into the wall. As it recovered, Krone stood in a deepened stance, waiting for his opponent's next move. With its right arm the Kig-Yar drew a pink, crystalline shard from its bandolier, and with the flick of a wrist, a two-foot blade materialized in front of its knuckles.

Mike's eyes widened for all of a moment at the incoming strike: a sideways slash at shoulder level, intent on swiping his head clean off. But the veteran ODST proved little more than fast by ducking beneath the energy cutlass. At the same time, he drew his knife from the small of his back—flipped it to a forward grip. Before the Jackal could regain stance for another strike, Krone stabbed it under the protection of its chestplate, standing to augment the force behind the knife.

Despite its cackles of anguish, the scout still had the willpower to hold its blade: an act that was rendered futile as Krone's shoulder blocked its arm from moving. As he twisted the blade under its ribs, the Jackal stared into Mike's visor with a malicious hiss. Ripping his knife from the void it had made the scout's armor, he stabbed it twice more in the vitals. It immediately stopped screaming, its painful hisses replaced by dying gurgles until finally it stopped struggling.

Mike twisted the handle of his knife and worked the blade out of the Jackal's torso, letting the body collapse on the floor. Shaking the blood off his knife, he turned back to Ethan, who was left coughing after his scuffle. "As, I was saying," he said while lending a hand. "After a block, they don't bother. They just leave you for something else."

Ethan's eyes darted back and forth between the bodies of the dead Covenant as he stood. Regardless of the obnoxious _scrape_ made when Krone wiped his knife against his shoulder guard, the private still couldn't be shaken back to his proper senses.

"Luck isn't worth a damn," Mike said, putting his knife away. Wilks said nothing. "You okay?"

Ethan finally looked up. "I-I don't know what-"

"Clear it," Mike interrupted, picking up both of their rifles and leading on to the stairwell. He could hear the guilt in the Marine's stammer. Guilt wasn't worth speaking about, nor was it worth listening to. It was something that Ethan would have to get past on his own.

"You failed to check your sector in a combat zone—we both did—and they got the upper hand on us because of it. But at least now we know not to make that mistake again, right?"

Ethan let out a deep breath, lowering his head, acknowledging his fault. "I know you're rattled," Mike continued. "You want to get away from here, far and fast. I get it. You're only going to do that if you keep your head clear. Oorah?"

The corporal concluded by holding out the modified MA5C. Ethan inspected his weapon once over, taking a breath as he nodded. Straightening his posture, he looked Krone in the visor and secured his rifle zealously. "Oorah."


	10. Chapter 10

**Kiyabako Central Plaza**

**Forty Minutes After Drop**

Kate and Ryan traversed New Mombasa on opposite sides of the street as they made their way to their objective: the rally point set up by the Superintendant AI just outside of Kiyabako Central, one of many sites that the Covenant had been using for their defensive Anti-Air network. Any pay grade above them would have said that they were insane to take on the task alone, but then again that's why they were relying on the possibility of rendezvousing with additional Troopers. In group strength of at least five, Vansen calculated, there was a good chance of bringing down the raiding the battery setup.

"Got something up ahead," Ryan called out over the comm. He had insisted on staying on either sides of the street to avoid being caught bunched up and off their guard, forcing them to use radio communication to avoid detection. Kate was beginning to think that he wasn't quite past the fact that the two were—as far as they knew—all that remained of their team.

She hunched low, shouldering her way along the walls in her side as she raised her M7. The one-way street that they were traveling along bent to the right ahead of them—most likely an exit from the plaza that was supposed to regulate traffic in the opposite direction. "What've you got?"

"Store's been smashed in up ahead. Not seeing any plasma burns though. Could be looters."

"Or it could be stray troopers," Kate added, peering up from the debris scattered across the ground and at the bite in the concrete roofing. No severe heat damage like plasma, but it took a lot of force to leave a mark like that. SEOIVs tended to leave a dent or two upon landing, she reminded herself.

"You really believe that?"

"We were pointed here for a reason," she said while approaching the corner. "Nothing wrong with going off of a little faith, right?"

Shepard crossed the street and fell in line behind Kate as she peered around the corner. The private didn't even look back as she surveyed the block. The street branched from a right-turn only lane at another intersection which, at the left from their perspective, would lead into a park circle surrounded by apartment structures; the Covenant gun emplacement would be right in the middle of it.

"Yeah? Well my faith's telling me that Super's off his rocker and giving us false intel," Ryan said, this time without using his comm. "We would've at least seen a Covenant lookout by now if they were protecting an AA asset."

"They're hiding this one right in the middle of an apartment circle to keep it protected from aerial incursion. Plus, there are only a few streets into that area. It's a good bottleneck."

It was true according to the Superintendent's navigation data: the battery was being held right in the middle of the circle but information on what was defending it was lacking, as were the locations of friendly forces that had fallen astray during orbital drop. But the IFF readings from drop pods were still present in Kate's map display, though she couldn't pin the locations of their users.

"Well then let's check it out if you're so certain."

"Not without backup. We won't last on our own."

She inched her head around the corner again. She opened the map in her HUD once, confirmed the IFFs once more, and closed it once again. They couldn't have gone far, she decided. Kate then let out a whistle. No response. She was about to try again when a hand popped out from an alcove one door down from a cafe, brandishing a gray UNSC bandanna in its gloved fingers.

"Face it, Kate—there's no one here."

"Uh-huh."

Casually, she walked down the sidewalk as though it were a regular morning stroll for a cup of coffee. Shepard muttered a curse after she refused to reply to a call—just kept walking. Kate loved collaborating with her teammates and hearing all opinions, no matter which side they were on; but when she was right, and contradicting of those opinions, she made the most of it. It was times like these where she enjoyed reminding her team that _she_ was the logistics specialist.

With her record, Kate could've been ONI; worked at a desk, strategized field operations, got a nice promotion with her pay grade. She almost laughed when the idea was introduced to her by Tanner, of all people. That was when he first assumed command of her class after ODST Qualification Training (OQT)—apparently he didn't have high expectations for her based on performance. Either that or he was looking out for her. To this day Kate never knew, but ever since then she made it her goal to prove that she belonged with her team, not in some cushy chair.

With her M7S now slung, Vansen positioned herself at the mouth of the alcove and peered around the corner to see another ODST backed against the adjacent wall just as he was tucking his bandanna away beneath his chest plate, which read "Gomez" at the top. Kate was first to break the ice with a quizzical "Oh, hi there."

The Helljumper gave a curt nod, to her then Shepard as soon as he came into view. "I take you got the invitation?"

"Something like that."

Without another word, Gomez motioned the troopers to follow him with the jerk of his chin. Vansen cocked her head at Ryan as she made her way inside: _I told you so._

"Shut up."

Following their new acquaintance inside the café, Kate and Shepard were greeted by another a three more troopers. "Greeted" may not have been the appropriate word as two from the trio looked up from a datapad lain out on a table, leaving Gomez to do the introductions.

Kate had already taken stock of the troopers by their appearances. The one in the middle—with his eyes locked on the datapad—stood out the most as the other two flanking him were little more modest with their decals; the one to her right had blue accents on his shoulders while the other one had a beige chest plate.

It was the scheme of the one in the middle though that caught her and Ryan's attention almost immediately: a red chest plate with an array of bomb symbols on one side neatly lined side by side, and a crude cartoon explosion stamped on the corner of his right shoulder guard. Kate glanced back at Ryan, who shook his head: _No way that's him._

"I'm Private Raul Gomez," the trooper started, patting a hand over his chest before gesturing to the others. "On the right is Corporal Mates, the left is Walsh, and funny guy in the middle is Wierbowski."

"Oh-ho," Kate chucked, turning again to face Ryan. "I'm right again."

Shepard shifted his weight. "I'm gonna kill you. You know that, right?"

At that moment, Private First Class Paul Wierbowski pried his eyes from the datapad. "Holy shit," he said aloud, then came around the table to greet them as he depolarized his visor. "You know, this kinda luck can only happen to me—running into you two assholes again. Where's that asshole Wilks? I'm gonna punch him in the throat for sending me into the middle of nowhere."

The mention of their squad leader sent a cold surge through Kate's blood and forced her to look away, as though she were trying to avoid it altogether. Accepting the loss was something she was well past, but having to inform another teammate for the first time just reminded her of that feeling.

Ryan stepped forward and took the burden for her. "Wilks is still missing. Tanner, Dito and Hawkins didn't make it—we got ambushed upon land down."

Paul remained silent and still, though his shoulders slacked a little and his head began to lower. Kate could see the color leaving his face. His recovery was surprisingly quick however, straightening up and meeting Ryan's gaze again. "So what now? You don't think we should just—"

Ryan interrupted the private—even though the demolitionist wasn't one to pass up a fight, the lance corporal probably didn't want to risk the option of falling back to end up on the consideration table by mere mention. "Our objective still stands, and it's getting knocked over one way or the other. So it might as well be by us."

"With six people?" Mates asked. "That wise?"

Kate folded her arms. "If you want to look at numbers, six is almost a full squad," she said matter-of-factly. "Teams of four are sent to take out priority targets all the time; if four can do it, so can six."

"Mates," Paul intervened, hands raised. "It's alright. I trust Kate's word better than my own. Trust me."

Mates and Walsh exchanged glances with each other from across the table before looking back at the private. Kate laughed, which sounded more like a giggle through her helmet as she planted a palm over her visor.

"Yeah that sounded smarter before I said it."

"Good Christ, Bowski," Ryan raised his voice. "Just show her what we're up against already."

"Right," Paul said quickly, pointing to the Lance Corporal to quell his rising impatience. He then lead the two back to the table with the other troopers, removing his helmet and setting it down next to the datapad. After pulling up an overhead view of the entire plaza on the datapad, the corpsman simply backed off and scratched the back of his head. "So uh…yeah. That's what we've got."

As Kate rested her palms at the edge of the table a chuckle escaped the confines of her helmet. "That's a start."

"The main battery is here," Mates said, tapping the overhead display in an area representing the center of Kiyabako plaza. Vansen's theory was correct. "Nothing special about its placement; simple, obvious, and it makes sense. Here's where it gets complicated.

"There's an anti-air wraith in the northwest corner here, opposite to the side closest to us," he pointed to a red chevron on the plaza's display. His finger traced down the edge of the plaza, along the building, to another pair of hostile marks. "Then just a couple doors down to the east, they've got a pair of Ghosts on standby under the cover of a Shade turret at the corner. Grunts switch shifts every two rounds of patrol; the two that patrol the perimeter then switch Ghost duty, and the two watching the Ghosts switch to the perimeter."

"That's an odd protocol," Ryan muttered.

Kate simply shrugged. "Short, stubby legs and heavy methane tanks on their backs; they can't keep talking around forever. Continue."

Mates tapped the datapad then dragged his finger across the screen, pushing the virtual map aside for a NavCom page that displayed live feed from the city's street camera network, this one overlooking the plaza and all of its Covenant occupiers. "Infantry is squad sized plus in strength. So far we've counted three Elites—two minors, one major, and not including the tank pilot—all accompanied by Grunts."

"On top of that," Walsh chimed in, tapping the screen to magnify the image on one of the surrounding buildings, "The Super picked out a couple of enemy snipers. One here in the building to the west, and you can't see this on any camera feeds, but the second's in the building to the south, near the main road entrance."

Sure enough, a bird-like silhouette was perched in the window of a darkened room, the glow of its purple monocle robotically pivoting back and forth, scanning its field of fire. Kate looked at Shepard to gauge the marksman's reaction. He simply nodded, tapping his fingers calmly against his rifle's grip.

"Challenge accepted?" Kate asked. She already knew the answer, but hearing it aloud never hurt anyone's morale.

"Oh yeah," he said confidently. "What's your gameplan so far?"

Mates leaned into the table, knuckling a gloved fist against the edge to support his weight as the other hand flipped the pad back to the map display. As he spoke, he traced his finger over the map to represent appropriate support paths. "Walsh, Gomez and myself are going to advance from the west side, ground floor of the sniper's coop. Now, the tank's going to be right on top of us. So before we can even look at the big gun, Bowski, you need to cut it down."

Paul nodded. "The room housing sniper to the south should give me a good enough view, and it should draw the initial fire away from your position." The private then turned to Ryan, and with some reluctance said, "I may need you to cover me when that happens."

Shepard folded his arms. "That might be a problem. I've got a good view of most of the plaza, but that street on the east corner by the Shade is going to screw with our plans if I can't tell if reinforcements are on their way."

Kate raised her hand casually. "I could spot for you on the ground—take the alley to the northeast and keep an eye on their movements."

Ryan bit the inside of his mouth in thought, leaning over the table and trying to evaluate their plan from the top. It was risky; a team thrown together at the last minute to take on a high value target was just asinine. Bowski was the only person he could trust after having seen him in action. What troubled him most was Kate's involvement. She knew how to handle herself against infantry, but without a team to back her up she wouldn't last in a standup fight for long.

"You really think you can manage it alone?" he finally asked.

Vansen patted her comrade's shoulder. "I'll be alright. You just keep Bowski from getting shot in the ass."

"Please," Paul guffawed. "If I get shot then the whole fucking plaza's going up in flames. I've got enough SSM's to kill that tank five times over."

Gomez spoke up. "In that case, if you're gonna be on recon, I might as well go with you. Covering Walsh might be easier if we split up into two fireteams anyway."

Mates nodded. "Agreed. That'll make dealing with their sentries easier in any case." He straightened out, addressing the squad as a whole this time. "We've all got our jobs. Anyone has anything to say, now's the time."

Helmets pivoted, feet shuffled; it was as though they were waiting for someone to say something—anything. The room felt empty, void of high spirits. At least that was the case for what was left of Tanner's people. For as by-the-book as he was, he always had something memorable to say. Ryan would've loved to keep that tradition but he just didn't know what to say, and worse yet he could feel the pressure coming from Bowski as he shrugged at him from across the table: _C'mon, man. Make a speech or something._

Shepard furrowed his brow and shook his head: _Fuck no._

"Alright," Mates concluded. "Let's get it on."


	11. Chapter 11 Preview

**[More to Come.]  
**

**Kiyabako Central Plaza**

**First Anti-Air Battery Emplacement**

Kate bounded from car to car, trying to avoid an imaginary line of sight that she had pictured being somewhere within the central plaza as she neared her insertion point. Her path to the alley was a clear, straight shot, which she deemed all but safe as she observed it, poking her head around the bumper of the Genet that was shielding her from plain sight. She double-checked the 3-dimensional mini-map in her VISR NAV; it yielded a solitary red diamond inching along the solid blue line representing the alleyway. In a few short moments, the source emerged at the mouth of the alley: a lone Unggoy sentry.

The specialist inched her head back behind the Genet. The Grunt simply stuck its muzzled snout to the air, sniffed a few times, then started to hobble back down the alley. On cue, Kate rose out of cover and followed in a low sprint, putting the brakes on just before she collided with the wall. She peered around the corner, noting that the Grunt was half way back to the plaza's interior by now, waddling toward open ground on his stubby legs. Before it could come any closer to finishing his rounds, Vansen turned the corner with her M7S ready-low, barely making a sound as she caught up with him.

Matching the Grunt's pace (close enough to hear him murmuring under his mask) she reached out for the point on its angular methane tank, leveled her weapon's suppressed barrel at the base of its neck, and then squeezed the trigger. The alien barely made a sound as the shot exited the other side with a misty spray of blue gore. Vansen caught the body, yanking it back with her free hand before it hit the asphalt.

"Vansen—one down," she hissed into her mic as she lowered the Unggoy by its heavy methane tank. From afar they didn't seem like much in size or weight, but up close was a different story.

"_Copy,"_ came Shepard's reply, and just on schedule. _"I just got to my floor and I'm about to set up. Over."_

That meant the next step was making sure Bowski got on his position without trouble, a step which, according to Kate's IFF tags, was slowly progressing as he and Gomez were rushing side by side to the apartment complex just off a few meters from the entrance of the plaza. Step three could never come fast enough, she thought, lowering herself to a knee behind the Unggoy corpse and facing front toward the objective.

Her hands were shaking now, as they always would at the start of a plan. At the very beginning of an operation there was so little room for error; so much that had to be done before a team had enough space to maneuver comfortably and have less risk imposed upon them. One slip up—one footstep, one scrape or scuff, one misplaced shot—and the whole plan could be compromised.

A heavy hand fell on Kate's shoulder, causing her to clench her teeth in surprise. "Tag," Raul whispered, emerging into her peripheral and kneeling down beside her. "You're it."

Vansen took a breath and lowered her SMG. "Funny," she said with a forced smile. "How's Bowski doing?"

"He's on his way—shouldn't be long now."

On her HUD's overhead map, the chevron representing the demo specialist kept zig-zagging against the apartment wall, seemingly going nowhere. That's not right, she thought while shooting a glance at Gomez, her furrowed brow and inquisitive shrug asking the question for her.

Raul slacked his shoulders. "Fire escape."

Kate couldn't help but smile at the notion—like a hulking crab trying to climb a set of stairs. She turned her head to the side and chinned her comm. "Hey, Bowski. You okay?"

_"I hate stairs,"_ he said flatly.

"It's good cardio. Keep it up, you're almost there."

_ "Thanks, mom."_

Vansen concluded the exchange with a quiet yet perky chuckle before ceasing traffic. From the corner of her eye, she could see Raul shaking his head at the specialist's girlish demeanor—a shimmer of her former self as a pre-enlistee, that tender, caring role she loved to play.

From early schooling to boot camp and field work, she took it upon herself to make sure her friends were at their best, a feat that did well in carrying the team during past hardships. One operation shouldn't be any different, she kept telling herself. Sergeant Tanner's absence was an unnerving void in team efficiency. Simply knowing that he was dead made her feel like the floor was coming out from beneath her, that reality shifted once again. And his death was worse, she knew, for Ryan to take in and move past; his admiration for Tanner bordered father-son, and being next in line with rank made things harder. For as great a soldier that the Lance Corporal proved himself to be, Ryan simply wasn't ready for a leadership role.

Kate blackened her visor once again, hefting her M7 in one hand while slapping Raul's arm with the other. "Come on. Let's go save the world."

"Oh, joy."

Ryan was hard-locked on his position, standing a good five paces from the window, rifle level, sights focusing in on Bowski's assigned vantage point across the plaza. Usually seen as a bad idea for sniping, firing from a standing position with the SRS wasn't as difficult as Drill Sergeants shouted it out to be; the weapon's design was meant to dampen the initial surge of recoil, and with his tone and form he was a master at accurately firing on his feet. The real challenge was hiding the length of the barrel, especially one equipped with a suppressor—a muffler for the signature .50 caliber howl, but also another twelve inches of barrel extension for the enemy to look at. He hadn't been spotted, by ground patrols or the Jackal overwatch, so he was doing well thus far.

"I got eyes on the Jackal sniper in your zone, Paul," he reported.

_"What's he doing?"_

"Just standing watch. How close are you?"

_"Just reached the floor now. I'm a stone's throw away."_

It took Ryan three seconds to comfortably line a shot onto the alien sniper's cranium. Now came the waiting part, he thought as the Oracle's reticule danced over the target's bird head. The scope magnified the Jackal to the point where Ryan could clearly see its natural, toothy expression and cycloptic headgear that shone a dim purple in the daylight. It didn't take ONI specialists for a grunt to take a guess and say that the alien headgear was not unlike their own rangefinder, augmenting the Kig-Yar's already keen sight. To Ryan, it was little more than a target now.

_"Vansen—in position."_

The marksman pressed his jaw to the comm pad awkwardly; he wasn't about to lose a perfect shot over a phone call. "Copy. Nice timing, Kate. How are things looking?"

_"Guard duty's still watching their Ghosts, but it won't be long before they start wondering why the sentry's not reporting; Shade turret on the corner's still unmanned, and I count three more Grunts around the corner. No eyes are on you just yet."_

"How about that sniper over team one—what's he doing?"

_"Standing watch. Hold." _There was a short pause in radio traffic._ "He's moving. Now, take the shot."_

That was all he needed to hear. "Alright. Bowski," he called, nuzzling his shoulder against the S2's stock. "Taking the shot in three. Be ready."

_"Copy."_

Before slipping his finger into the trigger ring, the Lance Corporal rolled his neck and comfortably rested his head against the rifle stock. The Jackal had barely moved, displaying remarkable composure, the one thing he envied of the Kig-Yar aside from their naturally keen sight. He took in a long breath and held it, then released in a slow exhale, steadying his shot as he drew back on the trigger.

The rifle made a loud, but muffled _spiff_ and through his scope Ryan saw a cloud of blood burst from the other side of his target's chest as it crashed to the floor in a violent twirl.

"Hostile down," he reported.


End file.
